Paint my Silence
by Hitsuiro Issa
Summary: Doumeki Shizuka, a twenty-three year old graduate of an esteemed university in Japan, was never thought to be one to be found in a prison cell. Watanuki Kimihiro, a twenty-two year old Dimensional witch, has it all planned out. douwata. 8D It's over. D:
1. Encounter

**Paint my silence [Encounter] **

Pairings: DouWata

Warnings: Language and, quite possibly, even sex.

Disclaimer: xxxHolic is not mine, but the OC obviously are.

-

Doumeki Shizuka, a twenty-three year old graduate of an esteemed university in Japan, was never thought to be one to be found in a prison cell.

In all honesty, he did not deserve to serve a sentence he did not commit any crimes for, but three years' time was a long way to go- being convicted for murder and arson, presumably, even if in truth it was one of his batch mates who had set the fire in the first place- and that the dagger was stabbed by a drunk ex-teacher, not him. He had not bothered- nor did he dare- to drink that night, much less to get drunk, so he had mainly been the person who tried stopping the troubles and the panic of the party-high teenagers, what with a dying classmate and burning tables to boot. The evidences had disappeared in the flames, and as he staggered out all covered in blood and soot with the dagger in his hand, the gathering police had pointed their guns at him and decided it easier to imprison a hapless adult rather than looking for the right convict at all.

Three years. He had been in the place for three whole years, but he looked stoic and tough enough to not get picked on by fellow jail mates. They even left him alone, and he earned begrudging friendships (it was crucial, a man named Skurai had said, one of the more cryptic convicts; it was crucial for a man to have friends and converse to survive in imprisonment) with the decent people serving their own time. The only problem with his rather peaceful living, though, was killing time. So he spent his three years keeping his shape, learning how to deal with cards and thinking of how different things could have turned out if he had chosen to go straight home after graduation rather than agreeing to go along with his batch mates.

The nice thing about being in jail, on the other hand, was relief. It was the kind of relief that assures him that he had possibly hit rock bottom- that, in his present case, couldn't have gone a lot worse, and since it wasn't his fault that he had been locked up in the first place, he was completely certain that once he got out of the place, he would join the police force, as was his goal when he went for college.

Sometimes, people would come visit him; interesting people, at first, but only to the farthest extent of pure curiosity on his part, since such audiences were unknown to him- concerned faces even if none of them really did seem familiar. Sometimes it would be his parents, still assuring him that they'd get him out soon, that he'd be proven innocent and the responsible would succumb to justice. He would shake his head no by then, mentally cursing the world for the materialistic sense of justice, and the fact that his parents would still sacrifice so much just for the son to come home.

"Ah, Doumeki," says his jail mate, a man called Akuma (or something), one fine night; "In the end, we're all convicts here. Nobody is entirely innocent." And he had chuckled to himself.

Doumeki couldn't help agreeing. There were times when he would blame himself for all the misfortune begotten on him, always thinking that if he had acted fast enough, if he had only controlled his batch mates a little more, none of them could have died, the place wouldn't have been set on fire, and he wouldn't have been rotting in the jail for three whole years.

It was a thought he'd rather avoid thinking about.

Doumeki learned to keep to himself. But since he had always done so even when he was only studying in high school, it was not a difficult thing to get used to. Normally talking wasn't encouraged when they were to do prison work- license plates and cement, the usual- so he was always labeled as a behaved convict doing his time, and it never made him feel better.

If it wasn't with Akuma or Juggernaut, his so-called 'friends', he would not talk to anybody at all, only if the need be.

Two weeks after his third year, he felt a sudden change in the air- something enlightening, in a way. He was called twice to a bare white room wherein he could talk personally with some stranger- obviously people looking for convicts to do their dirty work for them- at first to coax him, the next the job offer itself, but Doumeki wasn't the kind who'd draw a gun and randomly shoot somebody in his way- and as was obvious, he politely declined.

"And why did you?" asked an exasperated Juggernaut at one point, when he decided to tell him about it; "I would have said yes! You should learn how to steel your heart, Doumeki, since we're all convicts here- people are to believe we'd sealed our souls from the world." And then Akuma would quietly interject, "He's still a kid," which would eventually shut Jugger up.

He was called again a few days later, and with an excited shout from his obnoxious cellmate, he made his way towards the alleged room- an armed officer at his back, per usual. He entered the room as the metal door was clicked open, expecting to see the same old businessman he had encountered the past two meetings, (perhaps to try persuading him again) when he suddenly stopped in a halt before the open door in surprise, his golden amber eyes meeting a suspicious bi-colored two.

The boy before him- a year younger, perhaps- was seated with his legs crossed on a chair at the back of the room, fingers laced together with each elbow resting on idly on opposite armrests. He had a somewhat messy mop of charcoal hair, a few stray strands standing in different places. His glasses were rimmed with black, matching the suit he was wearing, and if it weren't for his cream white skin, he would have looked slightly out-of-place. What held his gaze, though, were his intriguing eyes- a hazel hue on the right, just as his own- and ocean blue for the other, his lids slender and almost feminine, adorning his smooth unblemished face, with a knowing smirk to rival the Cheshire cat's.

He stood by the door even as the said door closed with a silent hiss and thump behind him, and he struggled for control over his rampaging curiosity and surprise.

"Hn," He began, not knowing what to say; "You're new."

The boy chuckled, slender shoulders rising and falling with the movement. "How incredibly diplomatic of you, good sir."

Doumeki dared to raise his eyebrows. "Is there something you need?"

"Precisely," said the younger man, opening his eyes with half-lids, a smile on his pretty face. "I came to offer you a job."

"As what is always," Doumeki sighed, bringing a palm to his tired features. "Illegal? Somewhat?"

"Well, yes and no, honestly." The smile did not fade. "You would be working for me."

Doumeki allowed himself to study the boy much closer. "As a bodyguard?"

"A job certainly you can't handle, good sir."

"Doumeki," He huffed, frowning. "Doumeki Shizuka."

"Ah yes, where are my manners?" The strange man extended his hand. "Watanuki Kimihiro. I prefer a -san at the end, by the way."

Doumeki took the hand and shook it somewhat reluctantly. "Alright Watanuki-san. To be honest, I would rather join the police force once I get out, to be able to stabilize my parents' well-being. I have absolutely no time for your offer as of yet, since I have not been sentenced my freedom, as you well know. Perhaps a different time?" He retracted his hand and stood a little straighter. "Or would another pick appease you more?"

Watanuki dropped his own hand on his lap, still smiling, though his eyes appeared sad. "But Doumeki-san, there is no one to come back to, once you are free."

"My parents, obviously-" Doumeki started to say, indignant, but the bespectacled boy before him raised his hand to signal the other to stop.

"Their house is on fire, as we speak- in fact, the whole temple is on fire." There were no emotions in the younger man's voice, only a burning intensity in his bi-colored eyes, as if to show him what he could see- and Doumeki could almost hear the cries for help, the blowing of sirens, the smell of burning flesh and thick fumes consuming his sight.

And he ran.

He ran from the stranger, ran past the jail cells, ran faster than any other officer ever could- and switched the local television on, fingers jamming on tired buttons, looking for a live broadcast of the stranger's visions.

It was the family shrine, no doubt- and he could see, as countless firemen attempt to douse the flames, that it already was too late, and the boy had been accurately correct- there was nothing, there was no one, to return to once he was free.

-

Death was a strange thing.

He had not bothered to return to the pale stranger once he had confirmed the boy's assumptions, not because he was depressed or anything- that was one strange thing about death. When you think you would grieve for someone close to you, you just don't. Instead, there is only an empty void, but tears are not always present- perhaps there are none at all.

In fact, the only reason why he had not chosen to return to the stranger was his fatigue. He felt very much tired, disappointed even, after he had clicked the television off. When he returned, Jugger was fully asleep and sprawled on his own bunk, and without a word he had climbed to his and immediately sleep caught him. He wasn't even able to think of what to do next, because as he opened his eyes the next day, the guards were coming to pick him up again.

They did not bring him to the guest hall, however- today was different, and they steered him straight towards the chief's office, perhaps an addition of a year or, as he hoped for, his sentence to be over.

"Doumeki Shizuka," Read the chief officer from the file he had before him; "Age twenty when convicted. Three years for arson and murder. Correct?"

Doumeki knew enough not to decline, even if it wasn't the whole truth. "Yes, sir."

"Always the busy bee, you are. Completing tasks excellently and without a word. No record of misbehavior-" he placed the papers down. "You probably have an idea what you're going to get right now."

Doumeki's expression did not change, but deep inside he was struggling to find the right thing to say- modestly, or not. "Err, yes. Or I hope so."

"Hm." The chief busied himself with the papers, something to distract his eyes with. "Tell me, Doumeki, what do you plan to do after you are released?"

Doumeki thought for a while, wondering if it would be wise to be honest. "Before my parent's death and the destruction of my home, sir," he paused, then started again, since it came out right and tidy; "I would have joined the police force and used my salary to aid my parents." Another pause. "But it's changed now."

"Yes, I'm sorry to hear about that," said the man, though it was obvious he wasn't sorry at all. "So what do you plan right now?"

"I-" Doumeki thought of his most recent would-be employer, his lithe body and bi-colored eyes.

"You still have three days before we officially let you out," cut the chief in, who stood as if to end their conversation. "Think about what you want to do next for the while. You are still young." The man stared at him sadly, before walking out of his office with papers in hand.

Doumeki sighed.

-

"I was wondering when you would have showed up,"

Doumeki raised his gaze from the tray of bland food in his hands towards the speaker of the voice, familiar and alluring as it had always been.

"Watanuki-san. Quite a surprise to see you here, of all places." He countered easily.

They were in the old cafeteria of the jail palace, where the once white walls rotted gray and the tiled floors broke and shattered across the busy aisles between tables and muscular bodies of all sorts. The plastic tables, wired stuck to the chairs by metal bars, smelled absolutely unpleasant and were decorated with all kinds of blotches of food stains (or blood, at some event). Doumeki noticed how his guest stood out like a decent finger in a rotting lot- once again dressed casually, professionally, for his sake. Doumeki thought he was looking too good and well-groomed for a place such as a jail cafeteria.

Watanuki realized that his companion had been staring, but took it as an indication that he could use something else, like food other than beverage, for example. The younger boy then shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "It's not like they serve tea or anything," he said quietly. "Besides, I won't be long."

Doumeki nodded, gingerly placing his meal across the single glass of water Watanuki had for himself, settling down as the other spoke once more.

"Doumeki-san, I am truly sorry for what had happened to-"

"Listen, let's not get to that, okay?" the older man said quickly, leaning forward with unblinking eyes to stress his point. "I've been thinking."

"Ah...what has crossed your mind, Doumeki-san?" Watanuki still seemed baffled at being overrun as easily as that.

"Well," the addressed man shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling like a child being forced to admit something he didn't like in the first place. "I've decided. I'll take your job offer."

The surprised expression on his companion's face turned into his signature Cheshire smile. "As it is inevitable," he said simply.

Doumeki watched, unnerved, as the younger man slowly stood and collected himself, finishing his glass of water. "I shall come for you then," he said quietly, turning away with beguiling grace. "Three days, am I correct?"

Doumeki's reply came out only as a nod, and he could still the mysterious smirk on the younger boy's face, even as he walked away. "I believe you will serve me well," whispered Watanuki, as he exited the Jail palace and entered the limousine waiting outside the front door; "I believe you will, Doumeki Shizuka-san."

--

A/N: Yes yes, another work in progress. And to think a normal human being would succumb to lots of work- I guess it just turns out that I am a masochist, quite sadly. Besides, I feel like writing this. Blame it on Neil Gaiman; I love his works. 8D Reviews always welcomed. :D


	2. Dreams

**Paint my silence [Dreams] **

Pairings: DouWata

Warnings: Language and, quite possibly, even sex.

Disclaimer: xxxHolic is not mine, but the OC obviously are.

-

Doumeki didn't like the feeling of restlessness after his second encounter with the strange pale boy.

Once the younger man had left, his appetite was gone. He stared silently at the serving of cooling soup on his tray, the smaller serving of fish, and the glass of water. He couldn't help thinking of his mysterious employer as he drank from the slightly stained glass, abandoning the rest of his meal on the table as he walked away.

He spent the rest of the day on autopilot, hands busy and used to the usual jobs given to them. Juggernaut, as always, had picked a fight right after work- and as Doumeki and Akuma made their way back to their respective cells, Akuma noticed the unusual silence ensuing from his younger jail mate after another dramatic display of their friend Jugger- and decided it best to have Doumeki visit Skurai once more.

Doumeki was pulled out of his reverie once the suggestion had been made. "Why Skurai?" He asked, stopping his tracks.

"Skurai had wanted to speak to you for some time now," explained Akuma, turning around to meet the other's golden eyes with his crimson own. "You have nothing else to do, yes? So get the fuck in there." He lightly pushed his companion into the small room.

It had been rumored that Skurai had spent twenty years in the jail palace, and when asked about it he would reply with a grim smile and say, "It's a lifetime sentence," which was sad and insanely eerie at the same time. No one exactly knew what the said man had done to deserve such a thing, but in the end, that much was obvious. Skurai had been a wanted serial killer in his earlier years.

"You don't know the sheer excitement of it all," said Skurai once, when Doumeki and Jugger had taken the courage to ask about what made him murder all those people; "The blood, the gore, the baffled police officers and the frightened teenagers...if it weren't for that one boy surviving my torture session, I wouldn't be here." And then the veteran's dark gray eyes would cloud over, and Skurai would reminisce, completely forgetting about his audience.

The said man had not visibly aged, despite the years of confinement he had on him. As Doumeki entered the familiar decaying walls (with numerous vandalisms and whatnot scribbled here and there), stepped upon the cold tiles, he saw Skurai smile at him from his bed, looking frighteningly peaceful as he sat on his flat bunk. The convict's eyes were on him as he went through, one hidden behind the thick locks of his dark hair, the other free to shine knowingly upon his guest. Doumeki stood by the bars, his back to the entrance, and stared back.

"Skurai," Doumeki started, but was held up by a hand being raised by the said man.

"Let me begin," he said, an almost wistful tone his voice, as he had always. Skurai stood to his full height, a head taller than Doumeki, and crossed his arms before his lean chest. The convict was surprisingly lean and thin, even if he was the real serial killer and Doumeki only being a suspected convict, but size was never really the one that controlled the stakes.

"Condolences for your dead parents," he said easily, and Doumeki made a movement to tell him to shut the fuck up- that he had gotten over it or something, but Skurai added calmly, "Accept such sympathies while they last, Doumeki."

Doumeki was taken aback. "W-what?"

"Accept them." Repeated Skurai, staring again, a sad smile gracing his face. It turned out like a scarecrow's grin. "Accept them while they are being given. After some time, everybody will show their true colors- that they don't give a shit as to whether your family survived or not. This is a jail, after all, and as we both know, nobody is truly decent and civilized here."

Normally Doumeki would have said, no, I am civilized enough, I'm not like all of you- but time had thought him one of the most difficult lessons in imprisonment: don't speak out of terms to your superiors, no matter what they do or say.

So instead, Doumeki shrugged. "Well, I guess so." He added.

Skurai looked pleased. "That's good then." He tipped his head to the side. "So let's rewind. Ah, you have just arrived in my humble cell, with what do I owe the pleasure? I am terribly sorry for your departed, please accept my condolences." He had said such with the same grim smile, and it irked Doumeki a bit.

But the younger boy was steeling himself, and he had contemplated long enough what to say in reply. Skurai loved to play these kinds of games, wherein things were whimsical and could be rewound, and it was mandatory to play along.

"I thank you for your sympathy," said Doumeki slowly, as if tasting the words in his mouth to make them seem sincere enough. "And company is what I seek, my good friend. Shall I?"

"Excellent, excellent. As what you had always been branded, that was excellent." Skurai was grinning now. "Let's drop the shit, shall we? Talking fancy is quite difficult for a convict like me."

And Doumeki did just that. He dropped the shit. "What do you want?"

"Always the inquisitive one, I see." Skurai sat back on his bunk. "I hear you're going to be released soon. Three more days, and then freedom."

"Yeah."

"You excited?"

Doumeki thought of the strange pale boy, the mystifying eyes. "Yeah."

"Be careful of what you wish for, Doumeki." Skurai said then, gravely. "Time witches are people not to meddle with often, especially if the said guy is back from the dead."

Doumeki stared. "What the fuck-"

"Ah look, it's time for my yoga session now." Skurai curled upon himself, slowly easing upwards with only his hand beneath him. "Goodbye for now, Doumeki Shizuka."

Doumeki stepped out of the cell, heading towards his own, bewildered, his mind reeling.

-

He had a dream.

It was rare for him to dream, so he was basically surprised as he was having it.

He had been walking down a dark aisle, wearing clothing that looked eerily like his hakama- a garment he had once wore when he was studying in high school. He was part of the archery team then.

But ever since college, he stopped altogether. There were so many other things that deemed more important to him then, like studying for example, and though accuracy was immensely needed in the police force, using a bow was not. In his dream, Doumeki remembered putting an arm behind him, looking for the said bow- but immediately he stopped, and realized it was rather silly of him, and realized that it was still a dream.

The corridor he had been walking in was incredibly long, filled with shadows trying to reach him with their long fingers- but something kept them from reaching him at all, and though he usually wondered about numerous things he had come across (little things, little details; always the observant quiet one, his grandfather had supposed); there came an obstacle that kept his mind from all that, looming before him in the form of a large crimson door, chained closed.

He remembered being scared. There was something immensely menacing about the door he had come upon, apart from being secured tightly with clinking chains; as he was to decrease the three-step distance between he and his obstacle, there came upon him a blood-curdling scream, and he could feel the pain and helplessness radiating in horrendous spasms- so much so that even he himself was crying in vulnerability too.

Then the wind was blowing at full force against his back, pushing him ever so slightly towards the locked room, and he realized-in horror- that the thousands of dark shadows and menaces seemed to be flying and forcing themselves upon the chained door at one single swoop, the whole lot physical and brutal in itself, and he stumbled forward when the last of the shadows disappeared into the door. He thought another scream would be heard- but then everything else seemed muffled. He even considered being deaf in that dream.

And then, after regaining his composure, he notices that the dream is not over yet- and he had decided it best to approach the door and see for himself what it was all about.

One hesitating step, another. He kept repeating to himself that if you died in dreams, you would be alive in the real world. It was this thought that encouraged him to raise an arm, briefly touch the crimson surface of the door- and that's where everything else began, and ended.

Once his fingers brushed the smooth wood, a current of visions and sounds streamed through him, blinding him with millions of instances occurring behind the locked room- the overwhelming sensations, the deafening cries and swirling mass of black darkness, and terrified eyes and a mouth screaming for help-

He awoke with Watanuki's name on his lips.

-

"In the old days," Akuma would say sometimes, when he and Doumeki would spend an afternoon in a single cell and an open window, "People were more brutal when it came to criminals. They hung anybody as Justice would suit them." Akuma frowned at view beyond the barred windows, out in the plains beyond. "Now all they wanted to give was a life imprisonment. Look at Skurai, for example; think of all the people he'd killed, the families he had grieved, and he's still alive in this hell, practicing yoga."

Doumeki nodded grimly, not entirely knowing what to say, but he held the same belief. Somehow.

"Even I was hoping for a death sentence, what with all the innocents I have harassed for opposing my fraternity." Akuma looked wearily at his younger partner. "But you, of course you don't deserve any of these. You're innocent. Isn't that what you had always said?"

The younger convict closed his eyes and remembered: the bleeding victim in his arms, the fire in the background, the screams of his batch mates, the smile of the real murderer- his former teacher, his former friend.

"Yes," he said. And then, as if in afterthought: "One way or another."

-

He had odd sleeping habits.

It was at the end of his second day, around 11:55 in the nearing morning, when he finally found repose in a tangled heap of fabric on his bunk (he noted that he should swipe a few more blankets in the morning).

At first, he had awoken bathed in sweat, no idea or memory of the dream that had caused him such discomfort. He fell asleep again thirty minutes later, a while after it had struck midnight- waking up again around 2 in the morning.

Then he was walking down the same dark corridors again, this time, with a ward in his hand. He had reached the crimson door without interference, and as the scream echoed around him once again, he placed the ward on the wooden surface, halting both the cry for help and the start of brutal onslaught of the shadows upon the door.

It was like being paused in time, with only him being able to move. He unlocked and brought down the chains with surprising ease, and as he was about to push the door open, he woke up with the sun shining on him and the police officers clanging on the bars to rouse the other sleeping prisoners to wake.

Doumeki cursed inwardly.

-

The third and the last day was the busiest, and the most restless.

Despite his lack of sleep, Doumeki found himself to be suspiciously charged with energy, and he did all his prison work with uncharacteristic vigor. He ate his meals, ordered another helping, sparred briefly with Jugger- and soon he was returning to his cell, ready to call it a day and wake to the distinct call of freedom.

He thought about his parents as he packed what little he was allowed to keep in jail- a comb, some Buddhist beads, a pack of cards he once smuggled with him- and thought of what they would do if they were still alive, once he returns.

A feast of some sort, obviously, and his father would insist on an offering to Buddha for thanksgiving and safe return. That Doumeki had not been tortured for the least, even if he was wrongly convicted for arson and murder. Doumeki thought of the opportunities he could grab, become an officer of the law, implement straight and rightful justice. Advance into the Intelligence department, save lives, free the innocent. He thought and thought, visualized even, but no matter how hard he tried, he seemed more at peace with what he was going to take right then, with what he was about to get himself into.

Not once had he not thought of the boy.

When he fell asleep, his strange employer had been on his mind.

And dreamt of him.

He was back at the door, this time with a bow in his hand. He pushed open one great gate to enter- gasping in surprise as his gaze fell upon a crystalline container, Watanuki curled in a ball with hands on ears, suspended within.

The boy was naked, and Doumeki wanted to drape a coat over the shivering man.

There was a shrill sound behind him, and the ward burned to a crisp; the shadows grew and merged until they made up a ghastly being, slithery and huge in its form. Doumeki instinctively drew himself to the supposed archery form- and stretched the slender string, a golden arrow quickly materializing as it found its target in the monster's supposed chest.

As the mass of darkness slowly dissipated, the glass of the container shattered, and a very cold Watanuki fell into his arms, smiling in gratitude.

"Thanks," he whispered, with a voice so melodic and wonderful; "You saved me, Doumeki. You saved me."

He awoke even before the prison wardens could rouse any prisoner residing in the far end of the corridor, a renewed purpose flowing within him.

-

Doumeki held his breath as he stood in the early rays of dawn, watching the slender figure of his employer exit the limousine.

Watanuki only smiled at him as he walked pass, exchanging a few words with the chief warden standing with the ex-convict, before gesturing for Doumeki to enter the car behind him.

He hesitated, studying the boy's pale features.

"Are you coming?" Asked Watanuki smugly, and Doumeki nodded as he stepped into the ride, grasping the opportunity with his bare hands.

--

A/N: And chapter two is up. Now I can work on A&O, or if I feel like it, even Parasite. Breathe. I need to remember how to breathe. 8D Remember, my dear readers: Reviews = purpose to write. Figure it out. xD


	3. Dimension

**Paint my silence [Dimension] **

Pairings: DouWata

Warnings: Language and, quite possibly, even sex.

Disclaimer: xxxHolic is not mine, but the OC obviously are.

-

They drove past the countless buildings and apartments; past the city lights, the cars of downtown, through open spaces and whatnot, past silent mansions and stagnant trees in the seemingly windless landmark.

Doumeki could see, through the dark tinted window, the different landscapes and landmarks he had come to cherish ever since he was a child. He saw the places he had once been to, places he had never seen before, and much more places he would rather not remember- that counting the burned down gymnasium where all his troubles started. He frowned, seeing himself reflected somewhat dimly, realizing that they were leaving the boundaries of Tokyo- but thought it better to keep it to himself.

He dared not look at his employer, even, who was sitting comfortably across him- with the slim legs crossed, an expensive-looking tea cup in his slender hands, face pristine and composed. Doumeki tried his best to come up with anything to start a conversation, but even if he did think of anything, he couldn't bring himself to address the younger man. Giving up, he concentrated on the images that crossed the darkness of his window, sighing somewhat disappointedly to himself.

Though Doumeki was someone used to the ways of stoicism and silence, he found this particular quiet environment disturbing. The ride was long, and still ongoing, with nothing but the sounds of small tinkling from the tea cups and silent movements of other objects being moved around by the slight vibrations of the running car, and the occasional sighing of the man before him, though up until that point he had kept his gaze away from his employer.

Doumeki had finally gotten something to ponder on (mainly a few more strategies to card tricks) when reality kicked in and spat at his face.

"So, Doumeki-kun, quite a relief from being in a prison cell for three years, correct?"

Watanuki's voice was agonizingly wistful, tempting him, probing. He found it difficult to gather himself and reply. "Of course."

"Don't worry, though, you would not find it as difficult of any sort, where you're going. You might even enjoy."

Doumeki finally raised his eyes and met the beautiful mismatched pair. "Excuse me?"

"I do not particularly have any specific instructions to my bodyguards," explained Watanuki, drinking gently from his tea cup. Or what seemed like tea, anyway. "It is rare for me to leave the house and require any assistance."

The ex-convict couldn't help but snort in reply, "Apparently so,"

He realized his little slip, and slowly bowed his head, in silent pardon, perhaps, but Watanuki was...laughing. Doumeki looked up again, confused. "Sir?"

"Ah, nothing. You're little snide comment was a surprise, that's all." The boy chuckled to himself. "You are certainly entertaining, Doumeki-kun."

_You are too, _Doumeki wanted to say. He even let himself smile a bit. "That's not what my jail mates tell me, though, sir."

"Oh?" The Cheshire cat smile was back again, and Watanuki placed his cup on a nearby coffee table, before leaning forward as if to entice Doumeki to further explain. "Certainly a man as handsome as you had had your share of admirers."

Nothing to be done about that. "A small crowd, actually."

"Ahah!" Watanuki clasped his hands together, eyes shining. "How incredibly humble of you to state so calmly, Doumeki."

"Please, sir, an honorific if you would be so kind-"

"And what is the use of that?" Mock hurt. "You may even call me by my first name, Kimihiro, if you wish so."

Doumeki paused for a while, staring in surprise at the younger man. "Kimihiro?"

"It is like a term of endearment, I know," started the man with bi-colored orbs, smiling irresistibly, and the door that led out was gently opened by the driver- and Doumeki frowned slightly as the servant did so. "But it's really nothing when said without feeling." added Watanuki.

Doumeki got out of the car himself, eyes never leaving his younger charge.

-

It was getting colder as December drew near.

He had awoken to the distinct sound of birds, though by this time of year the birds were fewer. Doumeki rolled over to his side, facing his back to the window, mumbling slightly in annoyance; he had never had the opportunity to sleep in back in jail, and never dared to anyway, since he had seen some of the guards drag out a stubborn man from his bunk- and seeing that, well, it was enough to serve as a reminder to wake up early for anybody.

And, realizing he couldn't get back to sleep, he pushed himself off the bed and made his way towards the nearby full-body mirror in the corner of his wide room, bringing up a hand to sweep through his messy dark hair.

It was a large room, even larger than the one he had back in the temple (and of course in jail); it had taken him a whole minute to keep from looking around in awe once he entered, his eyes wandering again and again past the intricately designed maroon walls, the wide windows and billowing silver curtains (shining lightly like a moonlight's beam), the four-poster bed that screamed 'I'm-a-king', and the other decent little trinkets and furnishings that graced the room.

Watanuki was kind (and hospitable enough, he adds) to personally show him to his room, which was a little too much to be appropriate for a 'bodyguard', as he was originally hired as; he had tried to point this out over dinner, but his employer had done something that brought knots into his stomach- and that was to smile and laugh (although half-heartedly) at his statement, and say, "Wouldn't you rather stay in a comfortable place, Doumeki?"

In all honesty, he would have rathered lots of other things- beginning with the uncanny mishap that had occurred three years ago. Though he knew that if he had not gone through such troubles, he would never had met his mysterious bi-colored employer, he just wanted things to go the way he had planned them to when he was young- to be able to join the police force, watch his parents grow old and eventually die with him beside them, to marry a young woman and have a family of his own. But as he was always taught, things were never that easy, and all things happened...for they were inevitable.

Doumeki had only remembered the whole 'inevitable' thing when he dared to bring up a memory of his late grandfather the night of his arrival; his grandfather, the old Haruka, had always told him that things happened because they happened- and there was nothing he could do to change them. Ever since he was a child, he learned to accept events as they are- but then again, he had never imagined himself stuck in a prison cell for three years straight, right after his graduation party. As a young man, he sometimes couldn't help to find all the things that had happened to him unfair.

His meeting with Watanuki, though, served as a helpful beacon in the dark misfortune clouding his future- and he was grateful for that. He never had known how he would be once his parents were gone, but here he was, living an almost perfect life- no matter how odd, anyway.

And then he remembered the same words spoken by his employer- about things being inevitable. He had ignored it the first time it was spoken, since at that moment he was too caught up with the departure of the intriguing bi-colored man; now he had time to think about what was said, and he did so, brows meeting at the middle. He hated the way Watanuki played around in his head like that, hated the way he made the ex-convict only stare, his breath caught. But then again, he liked being with the bi-colored man, for there was something about him that assured him that the future would not be shrouded in darkness, and that there was always someone watching over him. He did not know what made him feel that way, but Watanuki seemed to be an uncanny man- a young man, a year less than he, capable of doing and knowing so many other things.

He liked Watanuki, in a way.

Shaking his head in front of the mirror, he made his way towards the door at his left, into the bathroom; he looked at his tired features and noted how prison work had greatly sapped the youth from him, and he frowned at his reflection, and ducked his head into the running tap of cool water.

The water made things a whole lot better, woke him further from his somewhat drowsy state.

Behind him, he could hear a soft knock on his coming from outside his room, and hear the small voice of one of the female maids; "Doumeki-san, the Master had asked to bring breakfast on his behalf."

Doumeki wiped his face on a face towel hanging on a nearby sling, and replied, "Ah, please tell him I shall be down to have breakfast with him in a few minutes."

"But Doumeki-san-"

"I must have breakfast with him," he said firmly, cutting through the woman- he even padded over to the main door and opened it a bit to see her clearly. "There is something I wish to discuss."

The maid, a girl in her mid-teens, and dressed in a French inspired maid outfit (Doumeki wasn't surprised, for even Watanuki's clothes seemed French designed- it was fetish, or preference, maybe), nodded curtly at his request, and bowed her leave. "I shall inform the Master. Your clothes for work are in the chest cabinet, good sir."

Once the maid had left, Doumeki turned to see for himself how his outfit would turn to be. There was nothing else inside the chest cabinet but bodyguard uniforms for a week, and three pairs of dark black shoes, and he smiled to himself as he took out one to try on. The shoes fit him well, and soon he wore everything else in his new ensemble; the dark trousers, the white shirt, the black tie, and to finish it off- the black suit. He went back to the mirror to see how it all fitted him- and nodded with a smug sort of grin in appreciation of how good he looked.

There was another knock on the door; "Sir Doumeki, breakfast is ready." And nothing more.

Doumeki adjusted his tie, bent down to wear a pair of black socks; there was an uncanny surge of adrenaline rush in his body, and he could almost hum in pleasure. He had never imagined himself wearing something so...professional, in a way. It was a big surprise (and a huge relief) that his uniform wasn't frilly or anything French, but he decided it would look better on him if it wasn't (Watanuki was probably aware of that). Once he was done, he smoothed his hair back and left the room, footsteps echoing as he walked down the hall.

Somewhere along the way, he recognized the darker walls in the corridor to his left, and as he turned, he stopped his steps entirely. The said corridor was dimly lit, and there seemed to be plenty of shadows along the lower parts of the walls, like dark hands suspended in time. At the end of the hallway, he could see, was a majestic door- and it seemed so eerily like the one in his dream, minus the hakama and the chain.

There were no screams coming from it either, but instead there was a sort of magnetic pull- and he felt inclined to open the door himself, like he had accomplished in his sleep. He took a step forward, then another; the shadows started dancing then, lightly brushing his shoes and retracting back to the wall, but all the time they continued tom move, as if beguiling him to come much closer...

He felt a hand on his shoulder, cool and smooth, and a soft voice to bring him out of his reverie: "So, what do you think of Yuuko-san?"

Doumeki shook his head slightly, and was surprised to notice that he had not moved at all, and that there were no shadows and the corridor never existed in the first place. Instead, he was staring at the wall with a portrait of an elegant woman he didn't know. He turned to meet the mysterious bi-colored orbs of his employer. "Ah, well-" he paused, and decided that it must be the woman in the portrait Watanuki was referring to, "She seems wonderful."

Watanuki chuckled; "Yes, Yuuko-san had always been branded wonderful, and a few more names at that." He smiled at the portrait, and Doumeki started to notice as well how wonderful the said woman really was: her long dark hair was tied back in a complicated manner, but it deemed elegant, and there were a few stray strands and locks still cascading down her back; she was dressed in an intricately designed French gown, complete with frills, and her neck was adorned by golden jewelry with butterfly insignias as gems; her skin was pale and smooth, and her eyes- Doumeki realized how intriguing the crimson eyes stared on, saying clearly that she knew so many things that normal beings don't. It was the same sort of gaze he sometimes saw in his employer.

"Were you related?" he asked, inclining his head to the side to look sidewards at the younger man beside him. He took note of the lack of frills and modern formality of his employer, who instead decided to wear something oriental: a sky blue shirt with long sleeves and a slightly opened turtle neck, decorated with shadows of birds that might have been swallows in their flight, and threads formed in an x to line the middle of the whole shirt, down to the end. Even his sleeves had x's trailing the cuffs, but it ended shortly after two wide marks. His pants were long and dark, feet still clothed in the usual black leather.

"Partly," replied Watanuki, and Doumeki brought his attention to his employer's face; "I was her apprentice. She adopted me when I was young. But we are not blood-related."

Doumeki's brows furrowed slightly. "Apprentice? To what?"

Watanuki smiled at him, Cheshire-like and undecipherable; "To become the rightful owner of her shop, of course."

Before Doumeki could ask anything else, Watanuki spun on his heel and started to walk towards the nearby fleet of stairs down. "Come, Doumeki-kun, we must not tarry any longer: we have customers to entertain today."

Doumeki followed quietly and stoically behind, though he could still feel the knowing look Yuuko was giving him from her place in the portrait hanging on the wall.

-

Breakfast was quick and done without words; before the grandfather clock had chimed 9 am, Doumeki and his employer were already in a room that smelled curiously of alcohol and sweet smoke fumes- the bodyguard had felt light-headed and slightly drowsy as he entered. Watanuki took something from a nearby cabinet in the room, draping around himself a kimono with the same shadow birds in flight as a design, securing the lot with thick sashes around his midsection. The added fabric was all too long for the man, and cascaded down onto the floor in a somewhat elegant manner; Watanuki took his place in the middle of the room, his eyes closed.

Doumeki took his seat somewhere at the corner of the room, looking around. The room they were in was entirely different from any other rooms inside the whole mansion, which were all designed in a gothic kind of way- with stained glass windows and hanging chandeliers. This particular room, however, chose to be as oriental and as mystifying as possible: the floors were laden with tatami mats, and the walls were of Japanese paper; Doumeki decided that Watanuki wanted to keep a shred of Japan in the whole mansion, somewhat.

"Hello? Is someone in?" Came a voice from behind the paper doors, and Doumeki stood to greet the voice, inclined to do so.

Beyond the sliding door was a long corridor, and he walked through it towards what felt like the front of the shop, until he reached the front door. Everything around him screamed out of this world, and as he opened the door to let the guest in, he could see the familiar neighborhood streets of Tokyo behind.

He stepped back as the customer entered, a young man in his late thirties, dressed in a business man suit and somewhat plainly to what Doumeki was now used to see.

"Are you the owner of this shop?" Asked the man, who the bodyguard noticed was profusely sweating. "Please, I-"

"I am the owner of the shop," came Watanuki's voice from behind him, serious and veiled with intriguing mystery. "Doumeki, please close the door behind you and make us some tea. Good sir, follow me." And he disappeared into a nearby room.

Doumeki nodded the older man to his alleged destination before making his way towards what he supposed was the kitchen. It was small and rather compact; he wondered idly if this whole place was an extension of the mansion, but since he had seen a part of his hometown even if they were a long way from Tokyo, well, they might as well be in another place. How they got there, he had no idea.

He stared at the boiling water before him. It has been a long time since he had last made tea, and he wasn't quite certain of what to do. His hands moved and served their purpose, adding the tea leaves a few minutes later, and the whole lot started to brew in a comforting color of green. Realizing he had done it right, he gave out a sigh and leaned on the island table in the middle of the room.

He was confused. There were so many questions circling his mind, and there were too many peculiar things happening around him, defying reality and the sort. Doumeki, though a bit superstitious and revered, was turned into a down-to-earth kind of man ever since he left prison, but after being dragged into this alternate dimension of the mansion (he supposed it was simply that), he wasn't so sure of what to believe in anymore. What was this 'shop' Watanuki was running, and what kind of things did the customers come for anyway? He did not see anything around the house that seemed for sale- was Watanuki some sort of prostitute? Certainly not.

He decided it best to see for himself, and, once the tea was ready, he made his way back to the main room of the shop, sliding through the doors quietly since his employer and their guest were in deep, serious, and desperate (on the customer's part) conversation.

Doumeki laid the tea before them and poured two separate cups- one of which Watanuki gratefully brought to his lips, and seeing the unchanged expression, Doumeki supposed he had done tea some justice. He stood a little way back, behind Watanuki, and listened to their exchange of words.

"I'm not certain of what to do, my wife's a wreck, and I know it's his fault!" The older man seemed angry now, and Doumeki clenched his fists, ready to spring into action if the man makes a move to hurt Watanuki. "How can you tell that it is a grave decision to ask for his misfortune?"

"It is because that, once you wish for bad luck upon another, sooner or later the same would be done to you." Was Watanuki's calm reply.

"I just want to get back to my normal life," moaned the man. "I want to come home every day with my wife happy and normal, instead of being on a bed the whole day, stuck in a coma."

"Do you think it's worth it to worsen your luck with your wish?"

The older man's look was dark. "For Yumi, yes it is."

Watanuki's mouth closed in a set line, and he reached out, his fingers open. "Give me the picture of the man you wish to curse."

The customer hesitated, but in a while he had handed the said picture to the younger man. Once Watanuki's fingers closed around the picture, it burst into flames, and soon it was gone.

"Your wish has been granted. Return to your wife."

The old man stood, thanked him, and left without another word.

Doumeki shifted at his feet. "What...was that?"

"It's a sad thing, to not be able to warn of another's possible fate." Watanuki said quietly, and then there was a loud crash that came from the streets, shouting and running, and the distant blare of sirens. "Once he had made his wish, his and his enemy's fate was sealed."

Doumeki nodded, having understood, and looked out through the window in deep thought.

-

**A:N/ I realized it was too long already, so that's the end of the third chapter. :3 A lot more coming soon. xDD Reviews always welcomed and appreciated! :D **


	4. Sex

**Paint my silence [Sex] **

Pairings: DouWata

Warnings: Language and homosexual sex. It's certain now.

Disclaimer: xxxHolic is not mine (never will be), but the OC obviously are.

-

What Watanuki chose to do in his spare time was beyond the stoic bodyguard. In public and in formality, Watanuki always looked clever, enticing, challenging. He brought himself as if he were a king, and smiled only one kind of smile- the one that said clearly, 'I am better than you'.

So, seeing his employer sprawled on his stomach before him, Doumeki couldn't help but stare. The position had granted him access to several treasures- a teasing glimpse of white skin, for example, for he had opened his inner shirt only a while ago. Even at this state, Watanuki's image screamed elegance; his arms positioned before him ever so blithely, his legs formally crossed and kept together, his head tilted to the side. It was only when Doumeki finally brought his gaze to the younger man's face did he realize that Watanuki was watching him too, with great amusement.

"I wasn't gawking," he couldn't help blurt out a second or so after.

"I didn't ask," smiled Watanuki, propping himself up on his elbows.

If Watanuki was anything else, he was a tease. Doumeki's growing attraction towards his young employer was quite obvious, and Watanuki always found time to poke a bit of fun at the archer. Lunch had been memorable, for starters- they had eaten at the oriental section of the mansion, and Watanuki had been the one to prepare the meal (for Doumeki was useless in the kitchen, Watanuki had said so himself)- and the bodyguard had 'accidentally' bent in too close, breathing slightly into the bi-colored man's ear, and Watanuki had slid his arms down to gently wrap his fingers around Doumeki's hand, had it hover before his clothed legs; Doumeki was so sure he would get a hard-on right then and there, but Watanuki had laughed with the taller man's hand dangerously close to his crotch, before ducking away from Doumeki with his tongue out, teasing.

Remembering that certain event only caused him to look disappointed, and of course his employer noticed.

"Still hard from earlier, Doumeki-kun?"

Honorific or no honorific, his name had been said with a sweetly intoned taunt.

Nevertheless, the question that not only brought him out of his reverie also put a slight tinge of blush on his tan cheeks.

"I wasn't hard to begin with, Watanuki-san."

Watanuki frowned at him, in a light-hearted sort of way. "Didn't I tell you to drop the formality and honorifics?"

Doumeki was reminded of his old friend, Skurai, and decided it best to once again put his term to use- drop the shit. "I'm sorry, Kimihiro."

The dual-colored orbs widened and sparkled in delight as he spoke. "That's more like it," said Watanuki, and he stood. Doumeki watched his employer walked over towards a corner of the room, adjusting the falling fabric that was draped around his shoulders, closing the unbuttoned shirt within. "Alas, we have an appointment today, and we're quite late. Come, Doumeki, we must leave at once." He turned to meet the bodyguard's eyes. "Can you drive?"

Doumeki thought about all the cars he had driven illegally when he was an undergraduate, and when he was in jail. "Yes."

"Let's get a move on then," chirped Watanuki happily. He brought out a driver's hat from the cabinet behind him, and tossed it to Doumeki. The bodyguard was sure it was only a spare, since the real driver had it on always. He placed it gingerly on his head, nodding at his reflection at a nearby mirror, and followed Watanuki to what seemed to be the door back to the mansion.

-

The drive was long, and he drove slowly.

They had taken a small car, a simple Honda Eclipse; Watanuki had said that there was no need to take the limousine, and that Doumeki might've preferred a smaller car to drive- which was right, of course. Doumeki was, after all, only twenty-three; he was not so adept at driving yet, and he did admit he needed a little more practice. But Doumeki could drive, and that was all the requirement he needed for Watanuki to approve of him driving the younger man to a place a rather long way from Tokyo.

It was in Nagoya, Doumeki remembered being told by one of the servant drivers. Doumeki had never been to Nagoya, but farther out- they had had a family trip to Osaka, back when he was only five years old and his grandfather still alive and young, and they had taken the train. Doumeki thought it absurd to even bother suggesting taking the train. Watanuki was certainly not the type who enjoyed sitting in public transportation in extravagant oriental clothing, after all (and he was sure nobody else was anyway).

Watanuki was quiet most of the way. Halfway the drive, Doumeki had tried to coax his employer into talking, giving slight hints Watanuki could tease about, but the younger man seemed lost in his thoughts and, with a soft sigh and a pointed look at the road, Doumeki dropped all attempts at conversation.

But Watanuki did speak- he had to, in a way, but not to explain himself for dragging the bodyguard a long way- but rather, to dispel the awkward atmosphere, and to lessen his growing discomfort. Doumeki had only gotten back from the rest stop with a bag of newly purchased water bottles in one hand when Watanuki turned to him for the first time during the trip, a small smile on his face. It was simple, somewhat forced; and Doumeki knew something was wrong.

"Doumeki, have you ever been to Nagoya?"

Doumeki dropped the plastic bag in his hands at the passenger's seat at the middle of the car, face unreadable as he had always had it. "No," He shut the door. "Osaka."

"Ah, yes." Watanuki said wistfully, smiling a bit. "The Tennoji Park was indeed lovely. Have you seen the Osaka castle? It's nothing quite as impressive as the one in Nagoya."

"I had a picture there with my grandfather," Doumeki replied. "We were-"

"-celebrating your fifth birthday, I know." Watanuki closed his eyes as he said so, "Apparently, Doumeki, I know a lot of things."

Doumeki opened the door of the front passenger seat, bowing slightly before Watanuki. "That is quite obvious at some points."

His employer entered the car, strapped himself in, and was silent for the rest of the way again.

It was starting to worry Doumeki.

Watanuki only spoke to direct Doumeki to the right directions- left at the next avenue, a long way across a field- and he got out of the car as soon as the Doumeki parked before their destination.

It was a mansion, even larger than what his employer had. It was draped in the late sunset, the blood-colored glow glinting off its numerous wide windows, and the wide gardens held within bathed in the crimson light. Doumeki exited the vehicle as Watanuki made his way to the front gate, knocking cautiously; the gate was soon answered by an old butler with a kind face but rigid posture, and Doumeki couldn't help wondering how long the old coot had to live.

"Welcome, Watanuki-san." The old man greeted, bowing as Watanuki nodded at him. "Master Kentaro has been expecting you."

Doumeki entered a few steps behind, wondering why in the world there existed people who lived particularly glamorous and complicated lives- and being unaware of it, too. Doumeki was sure he would've heard of such people over the news- after all, who wasn't being cast in the news today?- when he decided, Japan had never been aware of the mystery in the country anyway. He caught a slight movement from his employer and categorized it as trembling; it surprised him. Scared him. Worried him a little more.

The butler turned to him. "Have a seat," he said. "I shall bring over some tea. From here on, Watanuki-san must go alone."

Doumeki didn't bother to protest with words since he was never really good with them. His eyes were enough- and he gave a pointed, expectant look at Watanuki, who easily dismissed his gaze with a wave of his slender arm.

"He speaks the truth," said his employer. "Please wait here, Doumeki."

And Watanuki went on, across the carpeted floor and onto the wooden stairs, never looking back.

-

Some way through waiting, he dug his hands into his pockets and shifted through the lint- wondering idly why the hell there was a lot of it inside- and found a coin.

It was a small bronze coin of 5 yen, and he held it between his fingertips as he dug his pocket for others of the like. He found one more, and held it hard on his left hand, and decided it best to stick with only one. He knew a few tricks with the coins- not as much with his deck of cards, but heck, he didn't have a deck right now. He held the 5 yen coin between his thumb and pointer, tilting it this way and that, and appeared to have tossed it to his right hand but all the while keeping it hidden in his left. He closed his right hand upon nothing, blew on the fist, and opened it. As expected, there was nothing inside.

There was a sort of feminine gasp behind him, and he turned to see a girl around her early teens standing a few feet behind him, seemingly to have come from the stairs from where she was standing. Doumeki looked at the coin in his hand and back at the girl. "Turned it invisible." He deadpanned, helpfully.

"Are you a sort of magician?" Asked the girl, walking a few inches towards him, and he realized she had a cat in her arms. "Or a trickster?"

He shook his head and pocketed his five yen. "Neither."

The girl smiled charmingly, holding out a hand, and her cat mewled uncomfortably as she did so, one support gone. "I'm Kohane, ward of Kentaro Kuzishima."

Doumeki took the hand and shook it, nodding. "Doumeki Shizuka. I work for Watanuki Kimihiro."

There was a flash of surprise and guilt in the girl's eyes, and it only intrigued him more. "Kohane-san? Is Watanuki in trouble?" He wondered why he bothered asking.

"How long has he been up there?" She looked at the vermillion door at the far end of the second floor, and Doumeki followed her look, taking note of the sudden vibes of danger radiating from the place. He glanced briefly at his watch.

"Thirty minutes."

He was surprised to feel small hands clutching at his bent arm, not pulling nor pushing, only there. "Go to him," she whispered, and he did.

He climbed the stairs without difficulty and without delay, taking two steps at a time, and ran across the still carpeted floor. His leather shoes made lasting echoes across the hall, and he skidded to a halt before the door he was sure Watanuki was in, and tentatively placed an ear upon the wooden surface.

Muffled sounds. Rough moans, if he could guess right, and grunting. Just what are they doing in there? He contemplated bursting in, but dismissed the thought with an angry huff. If he was gravely mistaken of danger, he would face punishment for being rude and taking situations without his employer's consent- but if he was correct at his assumption that Watanuki was indeed in danger, was indeed being ass-raped inside, why was he stalling? Wasn't he hired for the mere purpose of protecting the younger man? He placed a steady hand on the golden doorknob, breathing in casually, and pushing the door open.

He was a tad too late. As he did so, Kentaro- a man of late thirties, with dark brown hair and sunglasses that hid his eyes- left the room, a contented smile upon his pale face. Doumeki watched him leave before running to Watanuki, catching him as the younger man proceeded to slip to the floor.

Watanuki was a mess. His clothes were crumpled and tossed carelessly to the side, his glasses lying idly on the floor. Doumeki carefully cradled his employer, leaning the beaten man to the wall, and ran out of the room with murderous anger surging through him.

As he left the door, however, he felt his surroundings shift and change- and before he knew it, he was in a bland, tasteless motel room, and the mansion was gone.

He turned to see Watanuki lying peacefully on the bed, although still naked. His clothes that were on the carpeted floor only seconds ago were nowhere to be seen. Grunting in confusion, Doumeki sat by his employer, not knowing what to do, and not knowing what was going on. He suspected that it might have something to do with the man earlier, like some sort of ejection seat- a way to get rid of them after he had had his fun with Watanuki. Or it could have been Kohane, who decided that it might be helpful if she lent them a hand (though he wasn't entirely sure, since Kohane did not really seem like a supernatural being). Or it could have been...well, certainly not him.

Watanuki stirred in his sleep, and unconsciously, Doumeki leaned in, hovering awkwardly over his employer and breathing deeply. His stomach was screwing in with multiple knots again, just like it had when Watanuki had teased him, or whenever the said younger man did something almost pleasurable...he shook his head, willing it away, surprised yet not disgusted to realize that he was actually turned on by the bi-colored man's taunts.

Thinking it best to check the water before diving in, he placed a tentative kiss on his employer's neck, and slowly his lips started ravishing the smooth flesh there. He could draw out a moan from the younger man if he brought his mouth slowly down the column of his throat, and a soft, pleasing sigh if he traced the corner of his jaw- his lips finally found Watanuki's mouth, and without hesitation, he captured it with a hungry growl.

Watanuki was responding, period. He didn't find any reason why he should stop, and his hormones were blaring, his hands were trembling, and if he chose to stop now, he would melt. Besides, he couldn't fathom pulling away- he didn't think he could, after all, and the way Watanuki's hands were rising to hold his shoulders, well; he couldn't pull away anyway.

His own pair of hands slowly started to slide down Watanuki's slender sides, fingers lightly tracing the white skin like butterflies. Hands met thighs- and slowly, he caressed it, immensely enjoying the sounds his lover emitted, coaxed by his gentle yet provoking movement. He realized he was hard. Well, there was nothing to be done about that.

Finally, his lips left Watanuki's own, and started its merry dance down to the boy's chest, tasting and licking and teasing. Watanuki arched into him when he bit down one erect nipple, and he loved the reaction, so he chewed and nibbled and pulled- causing the younger man to mewl and moan beneath him- in ecstasy even, and Doumeki was relieved it was that.

While his other hand had occupied itself with pleasuring his lover's other nipple, the one left with the thighs chose that particular moment to rub the boy's hips, as if to prepare him for future pleasure. Or something. Doumeki realized he was getting dizzy, and things were going on in a blur, but it came from doing something he had longed for so long- and for something he had only done for the first time- and dismissed the threatening headache, concentrating on the want and ecstasy he was getting in waves.

Doumeki started trailing his lips away from where it had dwelled in so long, and made his way down to the younger man's hips, where his other hand stayed. His tongue dipped and tasted the thin skin of Watanuki's ivory abdomen, going lower as his lover's breathing started to quicken, then finally tracing the weeping cock before him, engulfing it entirely into his mouth- and thus, earning another lustful cry of ecstasy from the other boy.

He hummed in pleasure as his tongue dipped and circled around the shaft in his mouth, and he could feel Watanuki's hands tremble and move about on his shoulders- as if unsure of what to do. He could understand that, even he was being driven crazy by all this- sex he never thought possible for a long time, sex he had never experienced before (and the fact that he was still a virgin; ah well). He increased his speed, building up momentum, and soon Watanuki was screaming and moaning and making all sorts of sounds that could only mean he was close- and he was, in truth, and he did come a little later.

Doumeki swallowed. He did it on instinct, honestly, and he found it quite rude to spit the whole thing out- after all, they weren't done yet. He didn't want it to be over. Sure, Watanuki had climaxed, but he hasn't. Making a mental note not to swallow again as the bitter and salty essence of his lover slid down his throat, he unzipped his pants and started to caress his own aching shaft, obviously wanting release for himself.

Watanuki was fully awake now. "Doumeki..."

Doumeki's other hand was at Watanuki's opening, lightly teasing, probing for entrance. "Shh," He whispered helpfully, "I got you."

Watanuki's hands clenched at the blankets at his sides as Doumeki's finger slowly entered him, and he gasped as the said finger started to move. A little while later, as he was starting to get used to it, another joined in- and he arched his back, wanting more, no matter how his body protested in tire.

Doumeki was aiming for the younger man's prostrate, and he quickened his pace. He added another finger in vain of search- and was pleased to realize that he had finally reached his goal, due to Watanuki's reaction of an arched back and a strangled cry. Thinking it was enough, he pulled his hand away, and his lover gave out a slightly protesting moan- only to be replaced by a more wanting gasp as he pressed his cock on the tight entrance, gently pushing and going in.

He waited for Watanuki to adjust, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was hammer senselessly into the younger man's lithe body. Slowly, his lover started to move, as if testing himself, and the moan coming from his lips was like a go-signal for Doumeki. Immediately, Doumeki started to move with his employer, speed gradually increasing as the younger man's moans became frequent.

"D-doumeki," mewled Watanuki, his fingers pulling mercilessly at the sheets his hands were engulfed in. "Doumeki, Doumeki-" he figured it was some sort of chant.

The older man continued to thrust, a little rougher and deeper than he had earlier intended, and a series of moans erupted from the boy beneath him, only to serve him more pleasure- and he took hold of the younger man's member, a handjob just as fast as his own thrusts, enough to bring Watanuki and himself over the edge a few more thrusts later- and then he was seeing white, going blind, ecstasy crashing on him in waves and then-

_He stands in a barren plane, a place reeking of death and abandon. Looks around. There is obviously no one else there. _

_How strange, he thinks. Hadn't he journeyed with another? He walks on, eyes searching, and he traverses across the endless plane with some difficulty. Realizes he's on thin ice, not ground, and he's falling, drowning, and a million dimensions and universes flash across his eyes, around his falling form, and he's screaming and laughing and crying at the same time that- _

He awoke at the sound of twittering birds, even less so in the early season of winter; there was little light coming through the window, and he sat up, blinking back the fleeting remnants of his dream.

Watanuki stood in a distance, putting on clothes Doumeki had never seen before, a casual blue shirt and faded gray jeans; the amber-eyed man left the bed and made his way towards his employer, stopping a few inches away, realizing that Watanuki was feeling awkward after last night- and realized that he felt the same way too.

His hand hovered above Watanuki's shoulder, and he could feel the dual-colored eyes on him, as if daring him to approach further. He raised his gaze.

"We should leave," said Watanuki, in the barest of whispers. He did not move at all.

"Car's gone," countered Doumeki, dropping his hand at his side, but his gaze is steady; he figured it was one way to prove that he was serious last night, and not lust-driven, though he was certain he could have been. "We should take the train."

"No, it's-" a pause, and Watanuki placed a hand on his mouth, as if he had just realized something, or he was trying to hide a deed; "It's outside."

Doumeki, brows furrowed in confusion, made his way to the window, pulled the curtains away, and looked down. The black Honda eclipse they had traveled in was parked innocently by the sidewalk.

"I don't get it," said the bodyguard, somewhat exasperatedly, though his stern features were the same; "I really don't get it."

"Ask no questions," Watanuki advised him, leaving the room without looking back.

Doumeki followed suit.

-

A/N: FINALLY. Sorry for the late update guys, something was wrong with FFnet- I couldn't log in. D: And I thought it was the same for everybody too, but I was fucking surprised to see story alerts and whatever- and though there weren't any new reviews, I felt cheated. Dx Why can other people log in and I can't? Anyway, WOOH. My first smut ever. I'm burning- literally- and I need a cool drink. And another hour of kick-ass DMC to throw in the towel for the day. xD I'm sorry for not updating Parasite, I really am. :( I just don't have any plot for it…yet. xD Consider it on hiatus. I guess I love this story a lot more. Ah well. xD Adios, and till next time! 8D Reviews are always welcome. ALWAYS.


	5. Truth

**Paint My Silence [Truth] **

**Pairings:** Obviously DouWata. They had sex after all. xD

**Warnings:** Shonen-ai (or graphic yaoi sex); Another dimension piece, with Watanuki as the Time witch and Doumeki's the big bad bodyguard. Dead people and torture galore. Need I add?

**Disclaimer: **xxxHolic is not mine, and never will be. Boo hoo.

-

Doumeki was driving when Watanuki asked, "Have you ever thought of what you wish for?"

Being careful to keep his eyes on the road, Doumeki replied; "I suppose so."

His employer was fiddling with the car belt strap keeping him still on the seat, plucking at the little strands of old on the belt. "That's what all people think. They think they know what they want. But in the end, they don't." Watanuki raised his gaze to stare at the passing buildings and trees on the road before him. "Such is the reality of humanity."

"Aren't you human?" Doumeki couldn't help ask. He immediately regretted it.

"Yes and no," Watanuki said, closing his dual-colored eyes. "After all, the dead should never come back."

At these words, Doumeki pulled over, and he could feel Watanuki's eyes on him as he unstrapped his seat belt and turned to the younger man- his arm bracing the front of the wheel, and the other grasping tight on the seat Watanuki was in.

"Look," he said slowly, counting one to ten to regulate his breathing. "I'm sick of all these cryptic messages and vague possibilities of the future. Why can't you tell me head on?"

Watanuki's voice was hollow; threatening, empty. "Why can't you believe?"

And then the younger man's face was gone, replaced by gleaming bone.

Doumeki woke.

He realized he was sitting on the cushioned seats of the local express train. He looked around, recognizing the metal bars and flickering lights, the shut doors and silver walls; he glanced at his watch, frowning at the time. It was already past midnight.

"Ah, so you're awake."

The amber-eyed man turned to meet a pair of dual colors. He couldn't say he was happy to see him, but he felt relieved somewhat; he had a vague feeling that the beautiful, young face before him had once been nothing but a skull.

He touched his head involuntarily. "I was dreaming."

"Indeed you were." Watanuki sat himself beside his bodyguard, body moving a bit to the speed of the train. "You were asleep for so long."

Doumeki allowed himself to frown, for curiosity's sake, and for the fact that the information his brain was sending him refused to match with foggy memories of car rides and mansions and sex and bone. "I don't really understand-"

"We went to Nagoya earlier, on a car. I met with a client, fulfilled his wish partially, and the motel. Yes, we had sex-" Watanuki had given him quite a pointed look, and Doumeki inwardly flinched; "We got back on the car, drove to the nearest repair shop because it broke down, and here we are." His employer finished, tone deliberately casual, hand waving around him to signify the train they were in.

Though the story seemed to fit remarkably well with the scattered fragments in his mind, he wasn't satisfied. "I don't remember boarding the train," he said slowly, carefully not to annoy his companion (it was a clear fact that Watanuki might have had a nasty temper, had anyway, but that was an assumption that had only recently popped into his head), "And the breaking down of the car. I was dreaming for so long." _And I want to know which is real_, he added in his head.

"Didn't you feel the shifting of dimensions in between certain events?" Watanuki asked, face devoid of motion, though his dual-colored eyes shone intensely.

"I-" That would explain it. Everything. "Yes." And then it clicked, with a memory called forth by a statement once said by a man in a prison cell; "Dimensional Witch."

Watanuki smiled at him, warm and contented, and the train came to a halt. "Come," said his employer, "We must get back to the shop at once. I have an appointment with another customer that I must not miss."

-

They arrived a while later at the shop, eccentric looking and rather oriental (he was expecting the mansion first but, oh well). At the front were two maids- one he recognized to be the girl who had called him for breakfast the other day. She had a pretty pink shade for her short hair, and she was pale; so was the other, but that one had vivid blue strands, not pink- though something nagged at him that the two were somewhat twins.

"Watanuki-sama, Doumeki-san!" Cried the two in unison, bowing as they entered. "A customer is in the lobby, and dinner is ready. Is there anything you need?" It felt more directed to the younger man.

"Maru, Moro, please help me get into my ceremonial clothes." Watanuki said (in a sort of reply), and there came a series of "Hai hai!" from the two girls; "Doumeki, entertain our guest while I get dressed."

Doumeki nodded, proceeding to where he knew the so-called guest was waiting.

The customer was female. Doumeki took it upon himself to at least greet the girl casually, but her presence in the appointed room was rather awkward, frightening even. She was no pretty client either- she was bald, and she had a hat on her head, and there were numerous casts around her body. It was a miracle she could move (he had assumed she had a certain totality of broken bones) because she did, standing to meet him, her legs de-crossing quickly as if the casts there were only for show.

He raised a hand to keep her from talking and to keep her from calling him anything that wasn't his title. It was always the wrong misconception that greeted him, and it annoyed Doumeki a bit- he certainly did not look like a Dimensional witch, period.

"The Time witch shall arrive in a while," he said in a monotoned kind of way, and the customer sighed in what seemed to be relief and resumed her earlier cross-legged position on the tatami mats.

He remained where he was, standing by the doorway, wondering what in the world the woman could want so badly. He decided that it must be to recover full vitality, nodding at the bandages and thinking that's it- but there was something else, he could feel it. There was something terrible looming over the woman.

Watanuki arrived at last, dressed in a yukata with several more layers of cloth that seemed highly inappropriate yet gave a nice, eerie mysterious feel to the Time witch. There were strands of crimson strings dangling down his front, coming from the dark folds that were hidden by the sash of the garment, some from the strings wrapped elegantly around his hands, and the usual golden-rimmed glasses that had a sling to serve as a support to keep it from falling; the whole attire was black, blinding and absolute, covered in what seemed to be shapes of birds in flight in demanding yellow, the pattern in random intervals and attention-grabbing. Doumeki caught himself staring at the designs as Watanuki spoke.

"And what services shall I bestow upon the customer?" said the Dimensional witch, all slender and grace, and he wasn't even Watanuki anymore.

"I-" the girl began, bringing up her hands to each side of her face, stroking her cheeks; the bandages were an interesting kind of white, slightly yellowish with dark patches of red splayed here and there. "I have a wish."

"As what is usual," Watanuki nodded, as if prodding the girl to continue. His eyes glanced briefly at what was behind his customer, momentarily staring into nothing at all for what seemed like a full minute, before switching back to the woman in his service once again.

Doumeki stiffened, choosing to sit down by the wall and watching the whole wish-granting thing take place before him.

"My husband died of murder. He died when his friend stabbed him twice in the back, and once more in his heart- and he had no reason to, because my husband and he were really close friends." The woman took a breath of air. "After that, the murderer left town, and he was never caught by the police, and I do not know why."

Something inside Doumeki tightened, and he figured it was anger; how could the police force not be able to arrest the criminal? Why would they allow it to slide, to allow the man to successfully disappear without any trouble? Had they chosen another innocent bystander as suspect, the same reason why he himself had gotten into prison? He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth. He glanced at the Time witch, who was calmly listening with no evident emotion on his face, and Doumeki forgot for a moment why he was really annoyed and wondered instead what Watanuki had in mind.

"Recently," continued the customer, and Doumeki's attention was taken back; "I see my dead husband in my dreams. And he's been telling me to do...weird things. He tells me to hurt myself." Her bottom lip trembled.

"And did you?" Asked Watanuki.

Sighing in resignation, the woman started undoing the bandages on her arms, letting the white linen fall on her lap in a flash of red and white; She did the same with the ones on her legs, a lot more careful this time, and Doumeki's eyes widened at the deep scars decorating her limbs.

The scars had a shape, and appeared as if written and done intentionally- and Doumeki knew they were- in jagged, uneven kanji. He bent down to take a closer look, frowning at the words created by the wound; on each arm was a name, and Doumeki assumed it was the criminal, for on her legs were the kanji for 'murderer'. The wounds were somewhat still fresh, only to have made a night or so before. He looked away as Watanuki stared on, face blank.

"Did he ask you to write those?" The Time witch asked.

The woman nodded. "Yes he did. He pestered me for a while until I gave in." she looked behind her, trembling as she did so. "And he still wants something. That's why I'm here. He has a wish."

Watanuki's expression was grave. Even Doumeki himself could feel the malicious vibes of whatever their dead customer had to wish for, even if he couldn't see the said person. He was sure, though, that the ghost was as clear as daylight for his employer, and that he could probably see other malignant spirits too- and it brought an aching reality to his heart. He couldn't really protect Watanuki completely.

"If it is your husband that seeks my services, you must allow him to take over." Watanuki said, and a silent chill ran down Doumeki's spine.

The woman trembled a notch more, hugging herself, and flinching at the mistake of grazing her injured arms. "Must- must we speak with the dead?"

"No," the Dimensional witch replied, and the woman's eyes widened, and she came into a sudden seizure, as if there was something trying to distort her soul. Watanuki stood, watching his customer, and frowning at the dimming eyes of the woman and the ceasing of movements, only to be replaced by an unpleasant decaying smell, and a malicious grin. "How do you do, Haneboshi-san?"

The woman- now Haneboshi Mataro, the dead man- smiled even more, and forced his wife's body to a sitting position, falling sloppily into a sort of bent form. Even at this point, Doumeki could still see his grin. "Quite well," he rasped, voice like nails down a chalkboard.

"And your wish?" Watanuki asked, still standing, and Doumeki could see the tension in the young man's shoulders.

"These writings," said the dead man, "Are for my murderer. Please engrave them on him."

Doumeki's eyes furrowed, and he stood himself, a little way behind his employer. Watanuki did not move.

"Did you hear me, you Time slut?" growled Haneboshi, this time forcing the body to crouch, and he tossed the head up, eyes bulging and red. "I want these marks on Kazu Tezuka."

Doumeki saw a glint of blade, and immediately he threw himself before Watanuki and caught the pocket knife in his hand, staring the possessed woman in the eye, amber orbs flashing intensely. "You," he breathed dangerously, inwardly flinching at the stale fumes of rot emitting from the woman; "Should keep your injuries to yourself."

He could feel his hands trembling in force, and realized grimly that the woman had suddenly gotten stronger than what she was supposed to be- and he was sure it was the dead man's doing, boosting his wife's abilities like this. With a burst of strength, Haneboshi jerked the knife away and hit him in the chest with a body shove, and Doumeki landed on his back with a thump. The opening gave the possessed woman to lunge an attack at the Dimensional witch, who had been watching the two of them spar briefly, no intent to dodge at all.

Doumeki swung his legs forward, jumping back to his feet, and suddenly there was a burst of red- and in his hands were two guns, one ivory white and the other black in contrast- and he knew, somewhat, what to do with them, and everything felt like they were in place after so much confusion for so long. He whipped around, momentarily terrified at the possibility that he might be too late, but the reality deemed different- for Watanuki had stopped the attack after all, and was holding the possessed woman's arm with such might as if to break it, his other hand on the place where blade was earlier targeted, as if to protect it even further.

"There will be no further violence here," Watanuki said smoothly, his tone demanding yet hollow, the hand on his stomach clenching tightly at the fabric there.

The possessed wife's eyes were wide in what seemed like surprise, and then rolled back in her head. "We are not done yet," she breathed, her eyes swirling in their sockets now, and jerked her arm away from the Time witch's grip and jumped back a few meters away, at the far end of the room. Her body was shaking violently now, her head lolling around like a rag doll, and suddenly her skin was growing and her clothes were ripping and- oh god, Doumeki had never seen a devil before.

"And here is the lucky couple's true form." Watanuki grasped Doumeki's arm, and the bodyguard threw a glance at his employer- and saw the creases between the younger man's eye brows and the dual-colored orbs shining even more in intensity. "Watch yourself, Doumeki. It is highly convenient that you were able to summon Ebony and Ivory at this moment." And Doumeki nodded, because he knew what to do and there was nothing more to say, anyway.

He raised the guns in his hands, Ivory flashing a blinding white and Ebony sending dark sparks to dance around him, and his eyes narrowed and his mind cleared, just as he would have himself do as he did whenever he pulled the bow string and launched the arrow.

-

He wasn't quite sure exactly how he finished his enemy of, and he wasn't really interested to know. His mind was more concerned on the fact that he was able to wield guns in such a professional way without needing practice, as if it has been a skill long brought into expertise without his knowledge. He raised his hands, tilting them this way and that, wondering where in the world his firearms had gone. Usually it would have cost him more annoyance and confusion on his part- guns just didn't materialize and de-materialize into thin air, after all- but then, after thinking about the disappearance of his weapons and the show of great skill he couldn't do in the first place, everything seemed to fall into place after that. It was as if somewhere inside him, he had long accepted such impossibilities.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that his employer was a Dimensional witch- the most powerful sorcerer of Dimensions. Come to think of it, he didn't remember reacting much to the revelation, like he had expected all along. It made things easier to accept right away, after all, instead of spending so much night pondering on the happenings around him. He wondered idly what got him into the mess in the first place.

He watched Watanuki's slender silhouette behind the paper walls, watched his two assistants- the pink-haired Maru and the blue-haired Moro- run here and there, fetching and storing away pieces of clothing Doumeki was sure built up his employer's extravagant outfit. He saw a flurry of long thin strips, which he guessed to be bandages, and as the shadows of Maru and Moro hurried around to wrap it around what looked like Watanuki's waist, Doumeki stood and approached the thin division, placing a hand on the paper-soft surface.

"Watanuki," He called, his voice monotoned and deep. "Were you hurt?"

The figures behind the paper divisions stopped, as if to hide themselves, and Doumeki found the silence a little bit unnerving. "Well," he continued, slowly. "Well, I was worried." And he was. He really was.

Watanuki stepped out of the division, ignoring Maru and Moro's protests, holding his long robes and kimono in place with one hand over his stomach, clutching at the fabric. His face was serious, but his tone seemed to smile, and his bi-colored eyes twinkled. "Wouldn't you like to know, then?"

And he let the robes go, and Doumeki watched as the clothes fell gracefully to his employer's sides, as if in slow motion, and for a moment Doumeki thought he looked exquisite and wonderful and mysterious and dangerously sexy- but that was only a moment before he caught a glimpse of pure white skin, and a short but deep, gaping slash.

There was a wound, a hole even, and there was no blood coming from it.

---

**A/N:** Sorry for the really late update guys, but as promised, here's the next installment for **Paint My Silence**! –claps- Phew, I thought I'd never see the day when I finally get my hands on my laptop. And the day when I'm actually using the pc to write stories and not play DMC3, hahaha. 8D

Which brings something to mind: I'll give a cookie to the person who finds a little nice merge in the story. Clue? Read the story. I'll count one to three now- one, two, and…three!

It's the guns Doumeki's got, **Ebony and Ivory**- anybody who knows DMC enough (or is addicted, like me 8D) will know. Just like the **American Gods **thing- haha, you guys were right. Cookies to those who noticed. xD Maybe it's influence, but it was a good plot- and a good idea- to start with. So thanks to Neil Gaiman and to CAPCOM, we have this lovely story blooming in our hands. Amen.

Also, I would like to thank those who take their time to review. I love you guys. I may not reply to your reviews, but always remember that I read every one of them and seal them in the little chest in my heart. For safekeeping. :D So I hope these loving people would serve as inspiration to my other readers- remember, the more reviews, the faster I'll update. (haha, I smell blackmail)

That's it for now, I have to run and prepare my speech for a debate session tomorrow. I love you all guys, mwah! :D


	6. Release

**Paint My Silence [Release] **

**Pairings: **DouWata. Obviously. They had sex, after all, twice even.

**Warning: **Oh look up there, it says sex. And oh, what was it again? Doumeki and Watanuki are both males? Obviously yaoi.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own xxxHolic and the devil arms Ebony and Ivory, but I do own what is there to be owned. Amen. 

-

In all his life, Doumeki had lived simply and mundanely- never once stepping out of line, always an obedient, little temple boy; never was he one to hang out much with friends, always preferring a decent and quiet place to stay in, reading books and studying; he took archery in a sort of revered respect, like becoming a priest in itself, and won tournaments without intent and pride; his grandfather was the only man in the family who chose to talk and tell of superstitious beliefs, like most old men do- but in the end, beliefs were just beliefs, and though Doumeki had not once cut his fingernails at night or pass by a graveyard with his thumbs bared, he had never really experienced anything truly supernatural.

Save his recent dreams, of course, ever since he had met the Dimensional Witch Watanuki Kimihiro- he felt that, after the moment he had set eyes on the young intriguing man, his life had been turned from its mundane reality of life, and became entirely different at all points.

And it was true. From a silent temple boy to a convicted murderer and arsonist, Doumeki never really thought he'd see himself walking through dimensions and cheating time; never believed that he would ever meet a man of great power and importance, even more powerful than any political figure; never dreamed of actually meeting someone to wrap him in a terrible, beguiling game of death and fate, and to be addicted to it. After all, once he tasted the supernatural, the unbelievable, the pure and adulterated form that is _hitsuzen_, he found himself wanting a whole lot more, and to never pull away.

And so now, as he stared at the wound that graced his employer's slender abdomen, he could find neither fear nor shock in his mind.

He allowed his hand to travel up and lightly trace the open slash, his pointer finger slightly dipping into the space. "It doesn't hurt, now does it?"

"No," Watanuki replied, and his face was shadowed by a disturbing, _I'll-put-up-with-it_ smile; "It'll close up soon."

And then Doumeki thought of one of his former jail mates, a man named Skurai, and recalled all the menacing stories he had told everyone who would listen, of the time when he was still a wanted serial killer, and how he enjoyed every moment of slaughter.

"The man who killed you-" the bodyguard started, and then stopped again; licked his lips, then rephrased the question. "How did he kill you?"

Watanuki closed his eyes, as if preparing himself, and Doumeki withdrew his hand as if he had just touched a hidden burn. Quite suddenly he felt bashed by a sense of guilt, a sense of falling, and thought that he could be what you could call inconsiderate- it was as if he had damaged something truly sacred, something scandalous and not one bit holy, something he shouldn't have prodded in the first place. He realized it was something like poking a scab- scratching it, digging deep in the skin just to scratch an itch, and pulling the scab away to see that it could still bleed.

Doumeki felt this and was greatly ashamed of himself. "You don't have to." He said, as if to mend the pain.

"I was one of those people," he heard Watanuki say, just as he was to turn and walk back to his room. "I was one of those kidnapped teenagers taken to an abandoned warehouse ten years ago. We were called 'Lambs' by our captor, a man with dark long hair and hollowed empty eyes; I still remember his name, and I know you've met him yourself." Their eyes met, and then Doumeki knew. "Skurai," he mouthed.

The Dimensional witch nodded, still looking remarkably composed, though his voice was strained. "I spent a year in that Hellhole." He said; "A year of watching the other ten of my companions to waste away in their own pools of blood, scars and gashes all around their body. I remember seeing one of the girls to be raped by dogs- it was horrible- and she was left to die in one of the empty cells, neck bleeding to have been bitten by her canine rapists, and body sprawled bonelessly. She was naked. Skurai was never one to take sexual pleasures, but he had those demon dogs anyway, and they were terrible enough.

We were given only a scrap of bread and a bottle of water, and sometimes I wouldn't eat at all since both smelled and tasted bad anyway. There was other windows but the really small ones at the top of the walls, and even if we were thin and tall enough none could have slipped through- Skurai made sure not to let anybody alive escape, always going on about the 'sacrifices for the apocalypse and human sin'...he was going on like we were all going to be like Jesus Christ, nailed to a cross- only a little more brutally, a little more cruelly, since we weren't direct children of God, goddammit, and we were not half-gods who would come back to life after death.

I remember being dragged from my cage a few weeks before the other 'lambs' died- I was not to be spared, after all, despite my young age. I remember being forced onto a steel platform, and my hands and feet were secured in place by raw strips of brittle rope- and I remember them cutting through my skin since they were tied too tightly, and I remember the scalpel Skurai was brushing against my cheek-" Watanuki paused, took a deep breath, and deep within Doumeki wanted to applaud his employer for still looking so calm despite the dark heavy truth he was sharing (and something in his mind whispered, it must be because he's dead, isn't it? and angrily he pushed the thought away); "-He tore my arms open and left me to bleed. I can still see my skin pulled back by pins, exposing my throbbing red muscles beneath; He left me like that for three whole days, and at each day I would pray that he would kill me already, since the pain was too great and I couldn't stand seeing my own blood staining my body. But after those three days, he stitched the wounds on my arms, though a little too sloppily- if you have only seen the wavering stitch he prided himself for- and decided it best to 'operate' on someplace more painful, more unimaginable.

He had pulled my hair, whispered threateningly into my ears; 'Would you like to have some fun with my dogs?' and I said, god hell no, and he laughed and pushed my shirt up to reveal my stomach, and he was trailing his goddamned scalpel on my skin, and I was crying. I was so scared, Doumeki, though I haven't been in a while. I was crying and he was laughing, and suddenly there was tremendous pain coming from my abdomen, and I felt like I was being ripped apart alive."

Watanuki stopped his story and looked at his bodyguard, as if expecting Doumeki to say something, but Doumeki's brows were furrowed and his breathing was uneven, and it was clear he had nothing to say.

And there really wasn't anything to properly express the sea of emotions the older man was experiencing then; how could he have lived rather peacefully with the man who had slaughtered so many innocents? Doumeki thought of the days he and one of his friends (Akuma, maybe, he couldn't really remember the name much anymore) listened to the Serial Killer's stories of brutality, and wondered why in the world he had not done anything about it- or react as much as he was then. He was angry, and he hated Skurai, and he greatly pitied Watanuki- he knew, if the younger man was only alive then, he would be crying- and he wished there was something, as his employer's bodyguard, to avenge the Dimensional witch, anything to replace the emptiness of undeath within Watanuki's soul- anything to quench the growing desire of vengeance, and self-forgiving. He felt somewhat at fault for whatever happened to the Time witch.

He raised his gaze, meeting the blank look of Watanuki's own, and prayed to one day bring back the life in them. "What else?" He prompted, grasping the younger man's hand, as if it could help- even a bit- and he realized he was doing it for his own stability. He was about to pull away when he felt Watanuki hold fast onto his hand, and decided it best to keep their hands linked instead, because Watanuki HAD feelings before he was dead.

"I escaped." Watanuki breathed, closing his eyes again. "I escaped and never came back. I closed my ears from those children calling for me. I don't know how I did it. Before I knew it, and before I knew how and why, I was staring up at a woman- at Yuuko Ichihara, the woman you had seen in a portrait, the predecessor of the shop- and I was dying. But she said something, and I knew I was safe.

Or maybe I told her I didn't want to die yet- and it was my wish, Doumeki, that brought me back to life."

"For what price?" Doumeki couldn't help ask, but he already knew.

Watanuki opened his eyes, letting his gaze meet with Doumeki's golden orbs. His hand felt limp in the bodyguard's hand. "My soul," he said.

-

Doumeki couldn't sleep.

He couldn't, despite the fact that he felt incredibly tired. His body felt heavy, and he couldn't even get out of bed, but his eyes refused to shut- and so on he stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him, with both hands behind his head and feet crossed.

There were a lot of factors that kept him from having a peaceful and decent slumber- and one was the revelation earlier, of how his employer had died, and by whose hand. Somehow, a part of him wanted to argue that Skurai should be forgiven now, since after all he was in jail (and only still; goddamn illegalized death penalty) but he quickly rebuked at the thought, and felt disgusted to have thought of it. He rolled on his side.

Another factor that kept him was that he felt like something about the time span didn't add up. Watanuki said ten years ago, and he remembered someone telling him that Skurai had served around twenty. Then he realized how vague and how much of a liar he was, and decided that the whole 'twenty-year service' thing was just a baseless rumor someone had stated out of assumption, and left the whole thing at that. He felt a lot better now, and his eyelids were starting to drop.

Then an image flashed before his eyes- of Watanuki in a cylindrical container, suspended by eerie bluish light; of tall crimson doors with chains, and dark corridors of twisting shadows- and Doumeki knew he just couldn't sleep yet.

He stood and padded across the room, making sure not to make a sound even as he dressed to leave- he had been shirtless a while ago, after all- and opened the door without as much as a tiny creak, looking at both sides of the corridors to make sure there was nobody out, and left his room.

He wasn't sure where to start looking; whenever he had come across with the place, after all, he wasn't aware or he had not intended to stumble before the familiar dark corridors, save his dreams. He remembered wishing to return to the dream again, back when he first had it in prison- closed his eyes, and wished again.

There was a breeze of cold wind, even in a windowless place- and he realized he was standing before a corridor dimly lit by torches, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He blinked; he had not walked at all, and decided it was a shifting of Dimensions, and left it at that, starting his walk down the corridor.

The shadows, like in his dream, seemed to reach for him then retracted back once they brushed his feet; he was wearing no hakama, and he had no bow, but he knew he didn't need them right now. Perhaps they were symbolic- duty and weapon, maybe, things he surely had right now. He was Watanuki Kimihiro's noble bodyguard, scratch noble, and he had in his hands Ebony and Ivory- two guns he was sure would appear once he needed them. He only prayed that he didn't, at all.

After what felt like forever, he was standing before the crimson doors- though unchained- that had stood in his dreams. He placed a tentative hand on one of them, and slowly he pushed- and the door gave way, in what sounded like a pained sigh.

"Watanuki," He whispered, running towards the cylindrical container, running towards the Watanuki floating within, curled up in a ball. He let his hands roam across the surface of the container, as if looking for a way to open it, and then wind was blowing fiercely at his back; he turned to look and saw the shadows, as they did in his dream, flood into the room in great heaps and black colors, positioning themselves a little way far from the container, ready to attack.

He positioned his hand in what seemed to be shape of a gun, as would a child have made in games; there was a crackle of light, and a building up of energy, and soon Doumeki wasn't just pretending to have guns anymore. He stared blankly at the shadows, and then at Watanuki- he had an idea, and he pointed each gun at the shadows and one at the container, and pulled both triggers.

He did not cease firing at the darkness, though their screams and howls resounded in the room. The container, being made of glass, shattered into millions of pieces, and for a moment Doumeki was showered by broken shards. When he opened his eyes, he was back before his own room, and the guns were gone.

Had he only dreamed of it? He stared at his hands, the parts of his body he thought was grazed by broken glass- and to his relief and suppressed surprise he found small gashes on his exposed skin. Quickly, he brushes them off, as if it would heal at his touch. And it didn't, anyway.

There was a sound, a soft shuffling of feet, behind him- and he turned to see Watanuki standing there, in a loose set of pajamas, looking all ruffled and -well- mysterious, as ever. He was about to ask what was going on when suddenly he realized that the younger man was crying, and he stopped before the words left his mouth, and Watanuki began to speak.

"I hate you," Watanuki sobbed, and Doumeki could feel glass shards rake against his heart, but he braced himself. "I was happier without my soul. Do you know how painful it is to live with the emptiness of death? I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to feel pain. But you've released me, Doumeki, found the part of me I had given to Yuuko. And now what? I can't let my emotions engulf me again. I don't ever want to cry again." And before he knew it, Doumeki was hugging him, embracing him with all the care in the world, and all the remorse.

"Nobody can live- even after undeath- without experiencing pain. And surely nobody should without care." He held Watanuki's shoulders and pushed him gently at arm's length, staring deep into the bi-colored eyes he had never imagined to look so beautiful with tears glistening in them; "I can't stand not being able to love you just because you can't feel the same way."

"I do," Watanuki's lips trembled. "I really, really do."

And they made love, once more, albeit a little more passionately than they first did; hands traced and danced, lingering nowhere, all hesitation and reservation gone; Watanuki made sounds a little more freely, and Doumeki was surprised that he could make lovely sounds, and to find out that there was indeed a difference in having sex with a soulless person- it felt warmer, and left him a feeling of utter content, and it seemed that Watanuki had never been dead in the first place at all. Skin made contact, withdrew again, only to come back in full force; and though Watanuki wasn't sweating at all, as he figured he couldn't, the younger man's earnest responses were enough to drive him crazy, to push him to the brim. They made love like animals, like gods, like dreams- at every strobe, at every movement, he could feel the dimensions shift with them, and the time crashed around them like water would at sea; he loved the way Watanuki chanted his name, like a mantra of a dying man, and he gripped at the sheets and at his lover's hand- and his eyes went white, the same way they had, on the first time he had come.

_But this time he is with someone else, in the barren land of emptiness, though the place wasn't so barren anymore. In fact, he was afloat, and weightless, but there was a reassuring warmth in the hand he was holding onto, and he felt at peace- and the universes and dimensions and worlds and dreams stopped, just for a moment, as he closed his eyes, certain that he would never fall from where he was right now. Watanuki is with him. _

"_I love you," He heard his companion, Watanuki, say. _

Too tired to say anything in reply, but wanting to express the same feeling too, he pressed closer to the younger man with him, embracing him, held his hand, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

-

**A/N: **Exactly 3,000 + 1 words. Oh hail. I wrote this in a hurry to atone my last slip-up- you know, updating late. So here it is, before anybody else can review or whatever. HERE IS CHAPTER SIX! :D Wow, it's going so well. I'm going to thank all the people who actually are waiting for the updates- and the people who are reading this even till now. And of course to that ASSHOLE who's always there for me, no matter what, and who's always ready to lend his algebra notes for me to study, just so I can think of plots during class. Yeah, Michael, you should die. xD

Sorry, though, if it's a little short- I'm using the laptop at what, three in the morning? Just so that I can without my father breathing down on me. He has a weird notion that everything I do should be filtered from perversity- from where he got it, I have no idea. But we all know that this, in fact, is **Rated M**, therefore it is not a good idea if dad gets a hold of this. So yeah. Ninja time.

Anyway, Reviews are always welcomed, and though I don't reply to them (not as if you guys reply back Dx) it doesn't mean I don't read them. Thanks to those who do review, and to those who only read- but I'd rather you review. Ahahaha. xD

Cheerio then~

Hitsuiro Issa 


	7. Wish

**Paint My Silence [Wish] **

**Pairings: **DouWata. Obviously. They had sex, after all, twice even.

**Warning: **Oh look up there, it says sex. And oh, what was it again? Doumeki and Watanuki are both males? Obviously yaoi.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own xxxHolic and the devil arms Ebony and Ivory, but I do own what is there to be owned. Amen.

-

The sun was beating down on him and he knew he hated the birds that sang outside his window more than ever.

He pushed himself to a sitting position, blinking away the morning dust in his eyes, and the last traces of slumber lingering in his mind. He wasn't surprised to not find any fabric upon his body, save the blankets- and he pushed them away without much thought, standing to his full height by the side of the bed, and looked out of the window as he did so.

The glass was fogged up due to the climate- and he wiped away a bit of frost so he could see out, silently admiring the view of white snow drifting and dead trees being clothed by something other than green. Inside his room, naked, it was a good thing the furnace was on; he had woken with the blankets on him too, thick and soft, and he wondered what woke him from such a comfortable sleep.

He headed for the bathroom and proceeded to his morning ceremonies- coming out with a towel around his waist and another around his shoulders. It was only then did he bothered to check the time, briefly glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner; it was around eight am. He was surprised he woke up that early.

He quickly wore the usual working clothes- a clean dark suit with a holster underneath (he figured it served a more fashionable purpose, somewhat like a must for sight rather than need), with dark leather shoes and plaid pants of the same color- and left his room, making sure to close the door behind him and keeping in mind to look for something sweet other than chocolate to burst him out for the morning.

The corridors was somewhat empty, save for the few maids he saw scuttling here and there, always greeting him a polite "Good Morning, Sir Doumeki," before shuffling away. He passed by the portrait of Yuuko, the woman who had once owned the shop, and felt a grudging respect for her as his amber eyes traced her haughty features. He decided that she had must've been a whole lot stronger than his Kimihiro, because nobody should ever be allowed- or be skilled enough- to raise the dead. He tilted his head, meaning to say something, but the words died on his lips- and stayed there in his mind, like a mantra again and again, as if in doing so the woman in the portrait would be able to get his message; _He's safe now, I've given him his soul, _Doumeki thinks in his mind. _Stop your smiling. He isn't yours anymore. _

_I know, _ she mouths, and Doumeki's eyes widened, but he did not step back or look away. _Take care of him. _

He smiled, and Yuuko smiled back (but he wasn't sure; maybe he was going crazy or something, because portraits don't mouth OR smile back, but then she was smiling the first time he had looked at her), and they both understood something only a mother and her son-in-law could understand. It was like an exchanging of gifts- and with the permission of having her son, the son-in-law would therefore trade his carefree life in order to take into full responsibility over his ward- something less ceremonious and formal, anyway.

He looked away, meaning to resume his journey towards the dining room (oh he was hungry, that was for sure) when his eyes met a familiar dual-colored pair, one golden and the other blue; he found himself smiling in spite of himself, and Watanuki was smiling back, though he looked a bit and confused and well- he looked surprised.

"Good morning, Doumeki." greeted Watanuki cheerfully, "Are you talking to one of the portraits?"

They both knew it sounded extremely stupid, and they laughed- Doumeki with a soft sound under his breath, his shoulders shaking in silent mirth, and Watanuki a high, somewhat feminine-but not too grand- giggle, and Doumeki was more than happy now, because a dead Watanuki with a soul was livelier than someone without.

"Come," said the Dimensional witch, turning partly on his heel, yet still leaning to see if Doumeki would follow; "Let's have breakfast now, we have a long day ahead of us."

And of course Doumeki followed.

-

Life had somewhat reached a level of tediousness that Doumeki couldn't believe to have achieved- things were usual, familiar now, and there was nothing new that further happened to the two of them; though life wasn't unpleasant as things went on, and Watanuki was happy (and he was glad the young man was, really), he sometimes couldn't help but wonder what he was waiting for. What he was paranoid for. Watanuki's attitude didn't really change- he was mysterious and unreadable to other guests, he was kind to his servants, and he was gentle and -sometimes- noisy with Doumeki. The bodyguard, in all honesty, had never felt so at peace in his life, and that is the cause of his uneasiness.

Maybe it's because he could feel an insistent, terrible presentiment that there was something going on, something nasty and life-threatening, and maybe it's the calm before the storm they were experiencing. At first, when the month of December had finally brought the icy snow unto them, Watanuki was nothing but smiles- for the customers were few, and the young man was restless, and Doumeki couldn't help being proud of saving the Dimensional witch's soul; he could imagine Watanuki not having one, and he always did, sometimes just to make himself feel better. He felt selfish.

And then in winter nights Watanuki was more than eager to have sex- or something like that, since he was always the one starting the kissing and the bedding stuff- and Doumeki was more than happy to oblige, since it was cold and sex was warm (a shallow reason, to be honest) and Watanuki was over-enthusiastic, which was cute and sexy and too much for the bodyguard to handle. Doumeki partly wondered if his parents were okay with him throwing his life away with the supernatural, but he figured, would I really be happy working for them? Somehow, facing demons and protecting an already dead person offered more comfort, more solace, and more fun.

Doumeki liked the cuddling after in sex. It proved to be the nicest and the warmest position, ever. It was like holding a teddy bear, a really thin one, and ruffling teddy bear fur- well, he really liked cuddling Watanuki. In fact, he liked holding the boy close, even without the sex. He figured that sex isn't complete with the sweet aftermath. Even when he told his ward this, the young man had whole-heartedly agreed, and had whole-heartedly kissed him. And they didn't do it that time at all.

But as the winter ceased and spring came forth, the customers grew in numbers- what was once two, three customers every two days or so, people started coming in between the usual span, and the two were busy once more. Well, Watanuki was, anyway, because there wasn't really any more need of taking care of Watanuki, now that things were well. But the young man had started to lose the childish light in his mismatched eyes, and there were times Doumeki caught him just staring, their carefree days over once more.

"What's wrong?" He asked, when the loss of twilight in mystical eyes started to unnerve him, a hollow time before bed; and Watanuki had said, "Nothing," as what was expected, but when Doumeki leaned in for a kiss, or for at least an intimate moment, the Dimensional Witch had pulled away, curling upon himself on the edge of the bed.

Doumeki didn't know what to do then, and had only stared.

A few weeks later, when the Sakura blossoms had started to fall, Doumeki once again brought his employer to the same distant mansion they had gone to before, but this time the bodyguard knew he had his twin guns with him, and that served as some sort of assurance. Watanuki was looking as distant as ever, possibly even more- and halfway through the drive Doumeki decided it to be the right time to find out exactly what was troubling his employer and what was so important of going back to Kentaro-sama, the man who had requested their presence in the first place.

"If you won't tell me," Doumeki said threateningly, gripping the stirring wheel; "I am going to park this car immediately, stop driving, and we're not getting out." It seemed like an empty threat, somewhat, because Watanuki giggled, and though it usually brought butterflies to Doumeki's stomach, it only unnerved him now.

"That would deem unnecessary," said the Dimensional witch, smiling softly at his bodyguard. "I would hold myself responsible if...something happened without you knowing anything."

Doumeki's hold on the stirring wheel ceased, but he steeled his expression, deciding it best to follow stoicism once again. "Then say."

"Very well," said Watanuki, and he adjusted his seat so that he could relax a bit; lax hips stretched subconsciously on their own, and Doumeki caught a glimpse of white skin, and he hated Watanuki for being sexy like that- "If you remember, I did say I only partly granted Kentaro-sama's wish."

Doumeki blinked, inching closer to his employer. "And his wish is?" His heart had started to beat fast, and he realized there was something incredibly wrong with whatever that sick guy Watanuki had in debt.

"He wants skin." Replied Watanuki, his face going blank and pale; he looked so much like a corpse now. "Skin and flesh and blood. And in return, he would set Kohane-chan free."

Why was it always a sacrifice for someone else?

-

Maybe anybody could call it selfish, but Doumeki couldn't help feel angry, and he refused to talk the rest of the way. It was taking him all his attention to keep himself from turning the car around and driving home, and he guessed that Watanuki knew his urges, because some time during the drive Watanuki had told him how important it is for them to come to the mansion, and how important it was for Kohane to be free from Kentaro's clutches, as if it would be enough to justify his decisions then.

Doumeki was uberly tempted to say, _Kohane-chan looked incredibly well when I've last seen her, and how exactly are you going to give him skin and flesh and blood? _Even more was he tempted to say, but every time he attempts to he shudders, was _Are you planning to skin yourself, for them?_

So he says neither, and it's all like the things left unsaid, and he's got this nasty feeling in his gut that won't go away.

One thing he says, however, or asks- "And how did you partly grant his wish?"

Watanuki looked incredibly shaken at the question, but it was only a second before he collected himself and replied; "He...examined me. Checked the wares."

Doumeki glanced at him, his eyes momentarily leaving the road. "What?"

The Dimensional witch closed his eyes, leaned into the softness of the car seat; "I was naked, wasn't I?" And it was all that needed to be said.

Doumeki was biting his lips then, the tight grip on the stirring wheel causing his knuckles to go white, and he said, "I don't like it. This wish."

"Do I really have a choice, and do you really have a say in the matter?" Watanuki said.

"I care a lot about you, and I'm your bodyguard. And yes I have a say." Doumeki sighed, and then, "You can always choose not to grant it."

"I know that, but Kentaro's reciprocating equally anyway, and Kohane-chan needs me." Watanuki's eyes were twinkling, but Doumeki wasn't sure if it was the same intensifying gaze he always had or tears. "And as long as they pay well, and it doesn't disrupt the whole of the cosmos, I will grant their wishes."

An idea crossed Doumeki's mind, and he decided to voice it, realizing it might be what Kentaro was after. "Even for sex?"

The resolve in Watanuki's frame was frightening. "Even for sex."

He gripped the wheel and drove on.

-

"Welcome, Master Watanuki and Sir Doumeki." Greeted the butler, a familiar elderly man from before, bowing as he opened the door for them.

Watanuki nodded his greeting, and Doumeki gave a short wave before turning to his employer. "You really don't have to," he whispered quietly, but in his voice there was a tinge of hopelessness, because there was enough reason for Watanuki to grant the wish.

"Stay with Kohane," is what Watanuki told him, before ascending the stairs and disappearing into a room.

Doumeki looked around, and caught sight of Kohane, a little girl with blond wavy curls and deep brown eyes. He approached her, and Kohane smiled at him. They really did meet then, Doumeki thinks.

"How are things?" Asked Kohane, and the bodyguard saw the paper balloon in her hands, and realized she was wearing a spring dress with yellow flowers and it suited her. Keep your mind busy to forget, they always say.

"Well." He replied, _and it couldn't get any better_.

There were coins in his pocket, and he demonstrated a few tricks for the little girl's pleasure, palming and pocketing, tossing and vanishing. Kohane, though seeming to be mature enough to not giggle and squeal at his works, had her eyes shining in wonder, and Doumeki smiled to himself. _Keep your mind busy to forget_.

"Master Kentaro can make things disappear like that too, or so he says." Kohane said after a while, and Doumeki thought, _shit, here we go_. "He also likes to wear sunglasses, even in the morning. I don't know why."

"Aren't you close?" Doumeki asked.

"He doesn't talk to me." Replied Kohane, frowning. "He's always busy somewhere, and when he does see me, we don't talk. And he's always touching my hair, and smiling, and it would seem to be a warm gesture but it's not."

Doumeki touched her hand. "Are you not happy with him?"

Her eyes, a nice color of dark chest nut, were swimming in tears. "I'm scared."

And he knew Watanuki was, too.

-

He's not getting much, but what he see is a portion of what is happening, and it's enough because all he wants to do is to find out what exactly Watanuki's giving away. It's like watching an old film, all crackled and scattered; and when something finally seems solid, it's hazy, but all in all it's okay. Because he's seeing skin, hearing cries, a flash of knife and a flash of red; and he closes his eyes and says, to Kohane; "I have to go to him."

_The knife's blade is soft, eerily soft, against his skin._

"I want to come along," Offered Kohane.

_It's painful. Terribly painful. How can anybody survive sex that's so painful? _

Their steps echoed off the mahogany walls as the two climbed the stairs, muffled slightly by the carpet that decorated the second floor.

_His hands are bound, and his mouth is muffled, and he's realized he's staring at a pair of teeth in each way there should be eyes. _

"The Master bedroom," Said Kohane, and Doumeki ran for the grand doors of it, the girl trailing behind.

_It seems all familiar now, and the teeth in the eyes are terrifying, and he's got a terrible gut feeling that- in all the thrusting and pain and blood and semen- someone's going to finish what he- _

Doumeki burst into the room, all anger and adrenaline replaced by shock and wonder and fear.

_He's here to finish what he left behind. _

Kentaro was gone, and in his stand, cornering Watanuki with sex and a blade, was Skurai, and he was smiling at them all.

---

A/N: First and foremost, an apology. I've dawdled for so long that I only have finished right NOW, at exactly 4:30 AM, and I don't have an excuse to explain myself. I'm so sorry guys. D: I blame DMC for this, because I've concentrated too much on finishing the game three times, hahaha. So yeah, there wasn't any time for this, though I haven't really abandoned it. I doubt I'd update next week though, but maybe the week after that- I'm going to take a vacation somewhere else, in the city maybe, and I won't bring my laptop with me. For the sake of my cousins and the money that's going to be spent buying Sandman. 8D I'm really sorry.

Anyway, onto some notes. I was planning to make Kentaro a demon or something, who eats people, but my sister suggested that it'd be better to have him become Skurai instead, because the guy is such an awesome serial killer and she's a fan of Hostel. Oh god, Hostel. That movie made me sick to the stomach, swear. So anyway, that's the change of plot. Woosh.

And someone's gonna die, but I won't say who. I'm mean that way, giving out spoilers that leave a craving. Daaaarnnnn youuuu.

And I'm in love with Vergil (is bricked) so yeah.

Thanks to the people still reading this, and to those who still review. I haven't forgotten. I love you people. xD And I promise to put a mighty good sex scene after a battle scene (or something) in the next chapter, but it'll be the penultimate installment. Meaning, it's the second before the last. D:

Onto my vacation now,

Hitsuiro Issa.

[EDIT] In the end, I was never able to upload it before I left my place. =_= So it's super late. I swear I'll make it up to you guys. xD How about some fanservice for the next chapter? xP


	8. End

**Paint My Silence**

**Pairings: **Doumeki Shizuka and Watanuki Kimihiro, all throughout and evidently.

**Warnings: **Not-so-incredible but in-your-face buttsex, yaoi, blood.

**Disclaimer: **I don't know why I have to repeat again and again that I own nothing.

**A/N: **AT LAST. HERE IT COMES! 8D

-

Kimihiro Watanuki was known to be a different kind of person during his past existence- a knowledge that, by secrecy and careful hiding, has never been made known to anyone else, save those who were fortunate- unfortunate- enough to have witnessed his past.

And perhaps the proximity of the relations that wove through his crowd- or more accurately, the likeliness that at one point Doumeki could be included- often caused him to ponder on the little bits of past he could recollect in his head, and during these days he was sore and mean and quiet- but at the present situation, with him pressed non-too-sexily against the wall behind him and a dark blade against his throat and an erect penis in his ass, well, he couldn't help but lock himself away in his mind and start remembering.

It was funny too, because he could _feel_, and that was one thing the dead surely had no power over. He was supposed to be beyond pain. Beyond ecstasy. Beyond fear. Hitsuzen was incredibly cruel sometimes.

Somehow, everything changed and everything was gone- only to be replaced by scenery- cherry blossoms, fifth district maybe- he could only count as a fragment of his past. It was odd, incredibly odd; it was a past he could not recall experiencing, but he had always suspected some hidden secret barred in his head, by fear or by treasuring, and he himself had never seen nor recalled any of such. Except now.

So he let it play along- it was, by far, even better than witnessing himself being raped and ripped apart slowly, after all. Though he wouldn't bleed at all. Kentaro would have to get used to that.

There was a girl in his past, smiling prettily in her school uniform, and he figured it was high school- and they were having lunch beneath the cherry blossom trees with bentous he figured he made himself. The girl was undeniably pretty and familiar, and he watched as his past self laughed and blushed- and the girl laughed with a pretty, sort of melodic giggle, with her curly chestnut hair moving slightly in the breeze, and he almost caught her name- it was a sort of flower- but the information was gone again before he was able to find out.

He couldn't listen in to whatever they were saying- after all, the memory was forgotten for a reason. He knew- somehow, for he cannot remember at all- that this happy little memory would end tragically, for why else was it kept from him? He watched the two nod and laugh, mouths moving mutely, and hastily pack up with a small goodbye and a kiss on the cheek.

He followed his past self- he had no choice anyway- and recognized the surroundings and buildings around them as they walked. The black and white images of apartments and structures he knew he had seen somewhere in his past melted into Technicolor as soon as he knew what they were, and when they arrived in the apartment Watanuki knew he used to live in, his dream was a fantastic array of peaceful colors, unrealistic in its painting-like reality; palettes shifting, shades trembling, and slowly ebbing away into a darker shade whenever movement was included.

He blinked once, and then twice, then suddenly his surroundings swirled and melted into a spiraling force before him, before leaping back into far corners and melding into the scene. He figured he had pushed a sort of 'next scene button', figuratively.

He had troubled recognizing the place at first. The scene was dark, almost brooding; the shadows against the walls were numerous and prominent, and the lamp posts could only shed a small amount of light where he was standing- and where his past self and the girl were standing as well. Then he realized; it was a little behind an abandoned bakery shop. He wondered if it was anything taboo.

Perhaps it was. Because soon the two were kissing, slowly at first, and then the girl was siding her head to get better access to the full of her partner's mouth. Watanuki watched as he received his very first kiss- a sweet and gentle moment- and he couldn't understand why it was sealed away in his mind.

Three figures stepped in, then, from the shadows behind Watanuki; they took hold of the small boy who was too engrossed with the girl to notice until he was harshly wrenched from her. Watanuki could see his past self scream and demand, mouth moving in a quick, frightened Japanese accent, and he saw something green- terribly prominent in the blue and black and white darkness- and before he could even guess what it was, a beaker of the greenish liquid was being poured into his past self's mouth, who in turn gagged and choked once it was drained.

Reality and realization hit him; it was all so clear now. This was-

"You're probably wondering why I'm doing this to you, Kimihiro-kun." Said the girl, and he knew her name was Himawari, twisting her curly brown hair. "And I think you deserve an answer this time."

Her addressee was on the floor, wheezing, struggling to speak; and when he did, his voice was rasped, strained; "Hi-himawari-chan--"

"I don't like your voice." The girl stated simply, her face blank. Then it turned into a smile- the way she smiled at you as if saying, it's alright; "And I'm just cruel like that, that's all."

He shut away his thoughts, gathering himself and rebuilding for the present- making the obvious pain penetrate him again, but it felt better than remembering something so sinister from a sealed past. He realized there were tears trailing his cheeks as he was still being pressed into the rough wall; the liquid fed to him was not poison, he knew, but a sort of acid that almost destroyed his throat- and he would never have been able to speak again until-

Something was quickly driven into his gut, and he choked, throwing his head back. He heard a distant bang, but it was not the same sound that could come from a gun, and he realized it was hardly a weapon at all- but instead, it was the large mahogany doors that kept them in the room, and suddenly Kentaro wasn't Kentaro any longer- in his place stood a man with ghostly white skin and dark long hair, with glinting white teeth in both eyes, and then Watanuki's throat began to hurt.

-

Doumeki was an adept at keeping his emotions at bay, no matter how uncontrollable. Even then did he not forget to check his composure once he saw his former jail mate cornering his employer- albeit with his fists clenched at the sides. Kohane was speechless herself, just gaping at where her guardian used to be, all sense of proper manners forgotten.

"Oniisama?" was what she seemed to whisper, and Doumeki could see from where he stood that she was trembling. He dared not touch her, but instead took a step forward towards Skurai.

"Since when?" He asked, his voice a strained tone, fists braced against the fabric of his pants.

"Ah, Doumeki-kun, long time no see." Smiled Skurai, the teeth in his eyes gleaming in pearly whites; he made a movement and extracted the blade that was earlier thrust deep into Watanuki's gut, and as he did so, the undead Dimensional witch made a somewhat gurgling noise- and Doumeki was even more tempted to just throw himself at them, to harm or to protect, he wasn't really sure which should come first. "Did you miss me, Doumeki-kun? Or where you too busy with-" he grabbed Watanuki's hair and yanked him forward, causing the smaller boy to tumble and lean against his captor, head squeezed in Skurai's arm; "-someone else?"

Doumeki took another stepped forward. "Get your hands off him, Skurai. Answer my question. Since when have you been playing us all?"

"Hm," Skurai touched his chin with the side of his dark blade, then flashing tongue at the agitated archer. "For some time now, actually. A day or two after you left jail."

"How-"

"The way a hawk launches into the sky, Doumeki. Flap flap flap. Quite clever, isn't it?"

Doumeki clenched his teeth this time. "Don't play shit with me."

"Oh, but isn't that how everything is?" Skurai caressed the smooth line down Watanuki's neck to his clavicle, causing the boy to wince; "Turn away for a brief second and then they're something else. That's how I survived." Watanuki was struggling now, trying his best to break free from the murderer's hold, but Skurai held fast; there was a cracking sound, and Doumeki had a dark idea of what it could be. "No more noise, okay? I'm sure his throat is rather sore- he seems to be experiencing a lot of things a dead person can't, huh? His screams, for example-" Doumeki's golden eyes met with two pairs of teeth. "-aren't dead people numb to pain?"

Doumeki flinched inwardly. He could see what Skurai was trying to tell him- that if he had never returned his employer's soul, if he had not meddled with what was to be, Watanuki would not have felt the great pain he was dealing with now. He could almost blame himself.

Skurai was regarding his reaction. And though Doumeki had been able to hold himself quite well, the hollowed-eyed man still noticed the flash of guilt that crossed the archer's golden gaze- and he grinned, in triumph and in sadistic pleasure.

"You seem to be in quite a fix, aren't you, Doumeki? That's what you get when you stick your nose in other people's business. Now, haven't Watanuki told you that he's supposed to grant my wish for Kohane-chan? You can leave with her now, I'm almost done." the dark steel started to dig into Watanuki's frail skin, but this time, the Dimensional witch did not flinch. His was an unreadable expression- the kind Doumeki knew that held a dark decision nobody can object to. There was a dull ache in his gut, and with trembling hands, Doumeki placed his fingers on his stomach as the bile began to build, dreading the outcome. "I'm taking the last of what I need now," said Skurai. "I'm taking his skin."

"W-what are you planning to do with it?" Doumeki turned to see who had spoken, in an alarmingly high voice- and realized it was Kohane, who had finally found the courage to say something. "Why are you doing this to Kimihiro-kun?"

"I don't really want to scare you," Skurai replied, in a tone that implied he would very much like to scare them all; "But if I take the young man's flesh and blood, I believe it would be sufficient compensation to remove my curse-" He licked Watanuki's cheek, bent down to flicker a tongue at the smooth skin. "-is it not?"

Before Doumeki knew it, he was pointing twin guns at his ex-jail mate- and he could feel his finger tremble, threatening to pressure upon the trigger, but he held himself and said instead; "Get your hands off him, Skurai. I will not allow him to die a second time."

Skurai just smiled at him. "And I will not allow you to foil my plans a second time, too."

A second time? Doumeki looked at the guns in his hands, his eyebrows scrunched up in the middle. How could this be the second time if it was only now had he realized it was Skurai all along? Come to think about it, they were pretty okay back in jail. It was only now did Doumeki truly oppose him like this. "What do you mean?" he voiced out.

Skurai gave out a dark laugh, that could be easily mistaken as a brief grunt, and started to caress Watanuki's cheek with the blade in his hand, only adding pressure when he was to speak again. "Tell him, Watanuki." He whispered quietly. "Tell him what happened that night, in the past ten years' time."

Watanuki suddenly acquired an uncharacteristic glazed look, and Skurai laughed at the sight. "He doesn't even remember, the poor guy!" He dropped his hostage, and once Watanuki's head lolled to the side, Skurai propped his foot up on the Dimensional witch's cheek. Doumeki's pressure on the trigger increased. "Your grandfather, Doumeki." said the murderer, and as Doumeki moved to shoot, there was incredible pain in his abdomen, and he doubled over, coughing blood.

Kohane's scream filled the air.

-

Kohane wasn't sure how it ever turned out this way, because in truth Kentaro wasn't really mean or abusive, and she had never dreamed of running away.

Or perhaps she did, in the briefest of thoughts; after all, although Kentaro was quite alright, he was dull. And busy. He never really had time for her, and she never really had friends- people tended to distance themselves from her and her keeper. And maybe the lonely times brought forth lonely thoughts, but she had never wished for things like what was happening right now.

She looked desperately at Doumeki, tears running down her face, because the man was on the floor now, bleeding profusely; Kohane didn't really know Doumeki well, but from what she could tell, he was someone people would like to be with, for the rest of their lives. He cared deeply for that Dimensional witch, and nothing could hinder him from trying to protect his master. In truth, though, it only saddened her to think about it, because nobody really was a prince in shining armor.

She looked up at Skurai, panting and laughing insanely, and felt a sudden surge of anger and hate towards the man- how could he sacrifice two people for the sake of his benefit? And what could he have possibly done to her real keeper? She watched as the said man stroll over to Doumeki, who seemed to be still alive and conscious, hissing insults and whatnot at him- but now is not the time for any of that. Making sure not to bring any attention to herself, she crawled towards the fallen Watanuki, and slowly tugged at him to wake.

"Watanuki-san," she called softly, and a great relief flooded her veins as the Time witch's eyes fluttered open, and his gaze met hers. "I have a wish." Her hands found their way to his, and clenched his fingers tightly. The older man smiled at her tiredly. "Then close your eyes and wish for it."

And she did just that.

-

And so,

-

"I hope you can rethink it all and live with us instead," said Doumeki to the girl standing before him, her light brown hair cut short now, with beguiling green eyes that could have not belonged to another.

"I would like to take over the mansion, Doumeki-kun." Kohane took the older man's large hand between hers, smiling up at him. "But I do thank you so much for everything. How is Kimihiro-san?"

Doumeki glanced at the car parked behind him, just below the arched stairs; he could see, in the raised distance, the figure of who he knew was Watanuki, sleeping peacefully in the front seat. He looked back at Kohane, a small smile on his face. "He's tired, but fine." Doumeki's eyes softened. "That wish, Kohane-chan. It wore him out. What did you give in return?"

The said girl fingered the ends of her hair, closing her eyes with a sigh. "Kimihiro-san said that the shortening of my hair stood for a change in the household. And once I cut it, everything changed, and Skurai was gone." She opened her eyes again; "And how are you, Doumeki-kun? Is your wound healing properly?"

"I'm quite well, don't worry." The archer smiled tiredly, then started walking down the steps towards the car. "Take care of yourself, Kohane-chan. And if you ever have another wish needing to be granted-" Doumeki pointed at the figure sleeping in the car behind him; "Call this guy."

It wasn't meant to be a joke, but Kohane laughed nevertheless, and Doumeki smiled.

And with goodbyes done, he entered the car, started the engine, and drove off.

The wound in his gut ached slowly, but he was used to it now, and in time, the wound would heal anyway. He lifted a hand from the steering wheel and used it to slowly caress the side of Watanuki's face, and the smaller boy's eyes opened, though halfway.

"Doumeki," said Watanuki in the barest of whispers; "It was your grandfather who saved me long ago. From those thugs. From Himawari-chan."

Doumeki glanced at him. "What happened-"

"-You look so much like him," Watanuki cut in, not wanting to explain right now. Everything could wait. "Thank you." And he was asleep again.

"Oi, you bonehead." was the archer's grumbled statement, but there was a hidden tinge of a smile in his voice. "I should be thanking you."

Words were not needed to be said.

_You've changed my life, painted the silence with a dazzling array of colors that could only be yours. _

"Sleep well, Watanuki Kimihiro." Doumeki said instead, once again turning dutifully to the road. "We have a new day ahead of us."

And that was the truth.

-

**A/N: **OMG IT'S OVER. After a WTFOMG long time, too. I don't know why it took me so long to write. Maybe I didn't want it to end yet so~ OMAKE! XD

-

Living with a Dimensional witch certainly had its ill benefits- and perhaps there were good ones too, but right now Doumeki was in no mood to acknowledge that. Sure, he was supposed to function as the man's bodyguard, but was dominatrix sex really necessary? Not that he was selfish or anything like that, but as he looks up and sees the smug face of the Dimensional witch himself grinning at him, kimono loose and peaks of white, flawless skin showing up from beneath the folds, he almost considers the thought that he was quite afraid- because this way, Watanuki was in charge, and was very sexy, at that.

So he squirms a bit, lightly pushing the boy's legs on top him to the sides, but all it did was spread them further, and he could feel the hard length of Watanuki's manhood on his stomach. It wasn't a terrible thing, because this wasn't the first time they'd have sex- just different, that's all.

"Stop moving so much," Watanuki purrs as he traces Doumeki's bare chest with butterfly-like fingers, and Doumeki bites back his lips before he curses. Because he's getting a huge boner and he wants to fuck right now.

Watanuki's ass was conveniently positioned on the bigger man's hips, and getting a massive hard-on would immediately be noticed. Not that getting one was taboo, damned if it was...but more of embarrassment if Watanuki realizes without him first pounding into the smaller boy's body. He would rather that than anything else.

But experience was experience, and as Watanuki had explained to him earlier, this was something he ought to try. After all, reasoned the Dimensional witch further, he was still a bodyguard and therefor somewhat 'under' Watanuki, in all sides.

And you want me to call you master, was what Doumeki had retorted, although blatantly, but Watanuki had smacked his arm and said Yes unless you're a complete coward.

And he was not. After everything that has happened to the two of them, spirits and murderous convicts and vengeful girlfriends of the past, Doumeki could safely say that he has been there, done that. Well, except this, and Watanuki was more than happy to grant his wish (though it wasn't really in the first place).

Perhaps he was to blame, partially- and here Watanuki's tracing his abs with lips so soft and wet, pelvic area slightly raised teasingly- because, after all, Doumeki was the one who had said something that urged the start of a wish, although subconsciously. It was meant to be a joke. A comment. Anything but a wish.

If I was on top you'd have more fun, was what Watanuki had said, and Doumeki had rolled his eyes, and that was where it all began. Towards the 'it's a new experience for both you and me' and all that.

Doumeki grunts, cutting short a moan that had somehow slipped through his lips, and grabs Watanuki's hips. This was worse than any bloody torture in the world; the erection he was getting was at full force now, and any furthered delay of sex would result into the summoning of his twin guns, or something equally violent. He raises the small boy, who allows him to anyway, and with one squelching sound Doumeki was in.

Watanuki's hands positioned themselves on each of Doumeki's sides, hips rising and falling in time of Doumeki's own thrusts upwards, and soon they were thrown into the same dance again that never failed to bring ecstasy surging in through the both of them. Watanuki bites his lips and almost screams as Doumeki's hands clench at the smaller boy's hips, and without effort, urges his lover to bounce higher, faster. He could feel his impending orgasm just within his reach.

Watanuki doesn't come, because the dead really can't anymore, but this was to be ignored just as he had so many times before- at first he had been disappointed, true, but Watanuki had assured him that there was still pleasure he could draw from sex, and that was enough to put the whole matter behind them.

With a tired sigh, he raises Watanuki off him and properly lays him down on his chest. Watanuki complies, with a small smile, and as soon as Doumeki's head was aligned with his, he fingers the bigger man's hair lovingly.

"Had fun?" He asks, smiling into the gentle curve of Doumeki's collarbone.

"I would rather seeing you under me when we're fucking," Doumeki replies, but there's a smile in his tone, a small tease. "You look so cute, so vulnerable."

Watanuki punches him lightly on his right shoulder at that, but they're both tired, and content. So it didn't really make any difference.

After a few moments of silence, however, when Doumeki was finally falling asleep, Watanuki spoke.

"Now for the payment," he says happily, tone all business-like and professional, and Doumeki wonders why he even bothered to think he was getting away with all this for free.

-

**A/N: **A nice way to end the whole thing, I suppose. xD I did say I would write another sex scene, didn't I? Wahahaha! Though someone should hit me for updating slowly. And ending it all like this. I guess you could say I was pretty lazy- and too focused on finishing some games. D: I'm sorry guys. I'm a gamer first before a writer. So yeah. Sue me. xD

Anyway, now that all's done, I'm going to work on something new. Time to get back to **Parasite**. YES I SHALL CONTINUE IT 8D I guess I'm not that mean~. And maybe I'll take a break from writing multi-chaps for a while. Tiring. XD

I think I've been writing too much angst! D:

Well, not really. But they're all dark crappy stuff- I really do wish I'd write something happy soon. But still. Haha. XD I'm a sadist at heart.

So stay tuned for **Tainted Love**, a oneshot I'm almost done writing. It's filled with sex and murder. AMEN! 8D

I'm still not feeling the emotion that clearly states "OMG I'VE FINISHED A STORY D8888". Yes, issues. I have a whole lot of them. O.O

Oh wait, here it comes:

OMG I'VE FINISHED A STORY D88888

Now that's over, time for my personal thanks to those who have stuck with this crappy story for so long. And thanks to those who had reviewed. Seriously. D; I cry every time I see an email saying I've gotten a review. And oh, thanks so much to Michael and Angelina, because they have been supporting me with plot suggestions and sex positions. I love you all. X3

Cheerio,

Hitsuiro Issa


End file.
